


31 Days of October

by Angry_Moth



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: AU - How to Train Your Dragon, Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Arguing, Attempt at Humor, Buried Alive, Demons, Depression, Dreams and Nightmares, Drinking, Established Relationship, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hallow's End, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, M/M, Movie Night, Murder, Sad, So much angst, Spiders, Story within a Story, Swearing, Temporary Character Death, The Author Regrets Everything, Too Many Sad Endings, War, pirates!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 23,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26766214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angry_Moth/pseuds/Angry_Moth
Summary: 31 Days.31 Hallow's End -themed stories from the darkest corners of Azeroth.
Relationships: Alleria Windrunner & Sylvanas Windrunner, Arthas Menethil/Jaina Proudmoore, Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw, Genn Greymane/Varian Wrynn, Illidan Stormrage/Tyrande Whisperwind, Jaina Proudmoore & Thrall, Jaina Proudmoore/Sylvanas Windrunner, Koltira Deathweaver/Thassarian, Maiev Shadowsong/Illidan Stormrage, Marius Felbane/Tehd Shoemaker, Nathanos Blightcaller/Sylvanas Windrunner, Tyrathan Khort/Vol'jin, Varok Saurfang/Anduin Wrynn, Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn
Comments: 54
Kudos: 95





	1. List of Prompts & Characters

**Author's Note:**

> So, since I am a big fan of Marvel as well, I stumbled upon a “31 Days of October” -challenge by spidey-lad in Tumblr. And I decided “why not try to finish a writing challenge this year since I tried something similar last fall."
> 
> So, here we are. I considered writing MCU fics, but my WoW-addiction got the better of me. 
> 
> I’ll be writing mostly sad stuff (as usual), some horror (which I’m really not good at) and something fluffy and shippy as well (so you all won't hate me). 
> 
> Comments and kudos really motivate me to keep writing, so leave those if you want to see me finish this challenge. Criticism and suggestions are always welcome as well as praises :)
> 
> Enjoy, and happy October to all!

List of prompts and characters/relationships for this challenge:

(prompts are by spidey-lad from Tumblr, characters, places and some settings are by Blizzard, and I'm taking credit for the rest!)

1\. Pumpkin patch - Jaina Proudmoore & Thrall

2\. Potions and propotitions - Vol’jin

3\. “How and when, exactly, did you figure out you were immortal?” - Garrosh Hellscream

4\. Graveyard exploring - Anduin Wrynn / Wrathion

5\. Buried (dead or alive) - Sylvanas Windrunner / Nathanos Blightcaller

6\. “I know you missed me, just admit it. I saw you visit my grave every day.” - Jaina Proudmoore / Sylvanas Windrunner

7\. Midnight ball - Jaina Proudmoore / Arthas Menethil

8\. Chilly weather, bloody sweater - Koltira Deathweaver / Thassarian

9\. “I’m not completely human anymore. Remember that next time you go to punch me in the face.” - Varian Wrynn / Genn Greymane

10\. Abandoned house - Varok Saurfang / Anduin Wrynn

11\. Horror movie marathon - Illidan Stormrage / Tyrande Whisperwind

12\. “I was really down for a couples costumes, but is this really the best you can do?” - Illidan Stormrage / Tyrande Whisperwind

13\. Hidden trap door - Varok Saurfang / Anduin Wrynn

14\. Harvest festival and carnivals - Anduin Wrynn / Wrathion 

15\. “If one fake spider makes it anywhere near me while you are decorating, I swear I _will_ punch you.” - Vol'jin / Tyrathan Khort 

16\. FREE SPACE - Sylvanas Windrunner / Nathanos Blightcaller

17\. Candy and treats - Sylvanas Windrunner / Nathanos Blightcaller 

18\. Deception and disguises - Vol'jin / Tyrathan Khort 

19\. “Do you believe in monsters?” - Vol'jin / Tyrathan Khort

20\. Greatest fear - Jaina Proudmoore / Sylvanas Windrunner

21\. Unsolved mysteries - Flynn Fairwind / Mathias Shaw

22\. “I’d hug you right now, but I’m kind of covered in blood.” - Alleria Windrunner & Sylvanas Windrunner 

23\. Costume party - Illidan Stormrage / Tyrande Whisperwind, Illidan Stormrage / Maiev Shadowsong

24\. Witches and warlocks - Marius Felbane / Tehd Shoemaker

25\. “Hold my hand, I’m scared!” - Tyrande Whisperwind, Illidan Stormrage & Malfurion Stormrage

26\. A knock on the door - Nathanos Blightcaller / Sylvanas Windrunner

27\. Breaking and entering/trespassing - Sylvanas Windrunner & Alleria Windrunner & Vereesa Windrunner

28\. “What are you gonna do, huh? Curse me again? I’ve spent the last three centuries with you, there’s nothing left for you to threaten me with.” 

29\. Pumpkin carving - Anduin Wrynn / Varok Saurfang

30\. Death and reincarnation - Jaina Proudmoore / Arthas Menethil

31\. “If you thought you were safe, you thought wrong.” 


	2. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Pumpkin Patch  
> On an October night, Warchief Thrall ventures far from home to meet with a certain mage...

* * *

“Jaina. I am glad you could make it. It’s been a while.” 

“Indeed is has. Far too long if you ask me. But you know how it is – keeping Varian from razing Orgrimmar is no fun job.” 

Thrall gave the mage a humorless chuckle. “As fun as keeping the Horde from pillaging Stormwind, I would imagine.” 

Then, the Warchief paused to look around the field. 

“Where exactly have you brought me, friend?” 

Jaina smiled at the orc, warmness creeping back onto her face. 

“We’re on a pumpkin patch!” 

“So you brought me to a place where you humans grow these orange fruits..." he said, poking the surface of one pumpkin and accidentally breaking it. Thrall took a step back and turned to face Jaina again. "What for, exactly?” 

Jaina glared at Thrall. “You don’t know about the Hallow’s End tradition?” 

“The what tradition?” 

The mage feigned a horrified gasp and threw a hand on her mouth. 

“You haven’t heard about Hallow’s End?” she whispered. “That is awful. We have to fix this!” 

Thrall tried to hold back a smile as he shook his head. “I was under the assumption we were here to talk about official business.” 

The smile on Jaina’s face died. She sighed, suddenly weary. 

“Varian,” her voice turned colder, “doesn’t see it necessary to negotiate with beasts. And I don’t have any authority over him in the Alliance.” 

Thrall raised an eyebrow at Jaina. “Then why – “ 

“Because... Okay, at first this thing between us was about peace. Political matters. I was trying to convince Varian that you’re not just some heartless monsters. But now...” 

“Now...?” 

She frowned at Thrall’s cautious tone. “Of course I still try to convince him. But that’s not why I am here.” 

Jaina hesitated only for a split second before stepping forward and taking Thrall’s hand in her own. 

“I want to spend time with you because you are my friend, Thrall.” She squeezed lightly, and the orc answered the gesture, careful not to harm the small woman. 

“Jaina... that means much to me. Thank you.” 

Thrall turned his eyes away from the mage and looked around the field of pumpkins. 

“So... What is this Hallow’s End you mentioned?” 

Jaina grinned. “This might take a while,” she warned. 

“It’s not like I am in a hurry,” Thrall answered with a smile. 

“And every year, at this time of the year, the infamous Horseman returns to wreck havoc on Goldshire. And... some other Alliance towns as well,” she finished weakly with a sheepish smile. 

Thrall stare at Jaina with an unconvinced look. 

“Alright, fine. The Horseman might be an illusion that we mages create, but he actually existed a long time ago. We just keep up the tradition to amuse adventurers.” 

The orc snorted. “Your adventurers can be so dumb, it’s a wonder they get anything done.” 

“Hey, they get a lot done! I know one who has completed at least 2000 quests.” 

“But,” Thrall continued, ignoring the pouting mage, “your holiday does seem interesting. It’s a wonder the Forsaken never mentioned it.” 

“I can’t imagine why,” Jaina muttered. "Undercity seems like the perfect place for Hallow's End."

“Perhaps I will bring this celebration to the Horde as well.” 

“Maybe we could celebrate together then, once this whole war-situation calms down.” 

Just then, an unholy squawking interrupted the Warchief before he could even open his mouth. A bright brown bird landed on the ground and stared at Thrall. 

“I think he’s carrying a letter for you,” Jaina observed helpfully, pointing at the scroll that was tied to the bird's claw. 

“She,” Thrall corrected. “And, I apologize interruption.” 

“It’s fine,” Jaina answered. 

“This could be urgent.” 

“Go ahead, then. Read it.” Thrall picked up the letter. 

“This won’t take long.” 

“I don’t mind waiting. Take your time.” 

Jaina tapped her foot absent-mindedly while she watched Thrall read his message. She let her eyes wander around the dark field of pumpkins, and happiness filled her heart. For a split second, she let herself believe everything would work out between the two factions. Then, Thrall finished reading his message.

"What," Thrall spoke with a low, quiet voice, "is the meaning of this?" He clutched the letter in his hand and started at Jaina, who frowned.

"Thrall, I don't know what you're – "

"Orgrimmar is under attack!" he yelled, making Jaina flinch. Then, the mage realized what Thrall was saying.

"What... I had nothing to do with this, I swear," she claimed in a rush, holding her hands in front of her. 

"You have spent the past hour distracting me with a foolish story. Now, when my city is under attack by _your_ faction, you can't expect me to believe you didn't have a part in this." Thrall growled, and Jaina stepped back in terror. 

“When you told me you considered us friends, I actually believed you.” 

“I wasn’t lying – “ 

“You better hope my faction doesn’t suffer from this betrayal, Proudmoore, or I will find you and kill you.” With those words, Thrall turned around and left. 

Jaina collapsed to the ground just like her vision of peace had collapsed, and she let her tears fall. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, the ending feels kinda rushed, but eh.  
> Thanks for reading, expect a new chapter tomorrow!


	3. The Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2\. Potions and propotitions  
> During the Warchief’s final moments a warlock comes to him, bearing a gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place after a demon stabbed Vol’jin in the Broken Shore. Instead of dying in his throne room, the Warchief retreated to his personal rooms to die alone.  
> Spoiler alert: that doesn’t go so well.  
> Another spoiler: the dude mentioned in this fic is Tyrathan Khort from the Vol’jin novel. I completely ship those two idiots.

* * *

”You seem to be in a fair bit of pain, Warchief.”

It took quite an effort for Vol’jin to turn his head around. Just as he laid eyes on the intruder in his chambers, the pain coursing through his body forced him to let out a growl.

“Great,” he grunted after seeing who was disturbing him, “I be hallucinating. Just what my day was missing.”

“I know I am one of the last beings you would wish to see at this moment – “

“Understatement of da year...”

Gul’dan waited patiently as Vol’jin interrupted him and winced in pain. Once the troll was quiet again, he continued.

“But I do not come here empty-handed. I bear a gift – and a propotition.”

With that said, Gul’dan pulled out a jet-black vial from the insides of his cloak and placed it on Vol’jin’s floor, right in front of the troll. With great effort, Vol’jin pulled himself to a sitting position, never averting his dubious eyes from the small, seemingly harmless object.

“Oh, I could never guess what be in dat vial.”

Gul’dan let out a low chuckle, void of any amusement. “It is exactly what you think it is.”

“Well,” Vol’jin snarled, “ya can get dat fel crap out of my rooms – my city – dis instant.”

Gul’dan merely raised an eyebrow instead of making any effort to obey the Warchief.

“Be dat way then.”

Vol’jin picked up the glass containing Gul’dan’s “gift” and threw it towards a wall as hard as he could in his weakened state. The bottle shimmered with green light when Gul’dan caught it mid-air with his fel magic. The bottle landed on the orc’s open palm.

“Careful, before you hurt yourself. Well, even more than you already have.”

“What da ya want, demon?”

A corner of Gul’dan’s mouth twitched upwards.

“Now we’re getting to the point. What I want is for you to take this vile,” Gul’dan explained like he was talking to a child, while holding out the vile towards the troll, “and drink.”

“Dat doesn’t sound like a good proposition ta me, especially when I be dying anyways.”

“Drink this, and I promise you will survive the poison.”

“Let me think... No. I rather be dead dan your slave. And ya won’t be using me ta make the Horde yours.”

“I believe you have misunderstood me. I am only asking _you_ to accept this gift. Your precious Horde will soon have to make the same choice – die or serve me and the Legion. Your choice wouldn’t doom your faction nor save it. This decision is yours to make, alone.”

Vol’jin gave Gul’dan a glare of disbelief just before he had a coughing fit.

“So,” Gul’dan continued after Vol’jin was quietly glaring at him again, “will you accept this generous gift of mine?”

“Nope. Still, I’d rather die.”

“I should warn you. Your mind is weak now, Vol’jin. I can see that which you hold most dear.”

“Good for ya. I still won’t be taking ya _gift_.”

“I wish you realize that I get no joy from doing this.” Gul’dan sat down on the floor, facing Vol’jin. “Unless you accept this deal, I will destroy that which you hold most dear. Do you really want me to kill him like I killed his king? Slowly, in agonizing pain, all alone...”

In less than a blink of an eye, Gul’dan got the answer he had been hoping for.

“Fine den.” Vol’jin grabbed the potion from Gul’dan’s grasp with speed that startled the warlock. “I be taking dis only ta ensure his safety.”

“Understandable. I knew you wouldn’t take it solely to support my cause.”

Quickly and unexpectedly, Vol’jin began to laugh. He winced when the gesture caused a surging pain in his ribs, but otherwise the troll didn’t seem to mind.

After a moment, Gul’dan got tired of the troll’s amusement.

“Do I get to know what’s so funny to you now?”

“Dere be another reason I be taking dis curse.”

Vol’jin leaned closer, so that his tusks almost brushed the sides of Gul’dan’s face.

“I want ta be alive ta see ya die.”

After that Vol’jin had no words left to say, so he opened the vial and poured the potion down his throat.


	4. The Tale of A Lonely Warchief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3\. “How and when, exactly, did you figure out you were immortal?”  
> In a bar somewhere in Orgrimmar, Garrosh tells the true story of his life.  
>  **TW: Homophobic slurs ******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone here watched the Netflix-series Lucifer? There’s this whole idea that people in Hell are reliving the worst moment(s) of their lives in a continuous, never-ending loop. (I'm not sure if that series came up with that idea or not, but that’s where I got it from anyways). 
> 
> I bet that to Garrosh, that loop would include most of his life. If you know your lore, you know why. His life sucked.
> 
> I’d hate to be Garrosh if that sort of Hell actually existed. I’m sure he would agree with me, once he would figure out what was going on.

* * *

“Ya might be da Warchief, mistah Warchief, but I’ll smash ya face if ya eva... Wait. What did ya do again?” 

Garrosh growled. “How should I know, you’re obviously too drunk to even speak correctly. Oh wait. You’re just a troll. Besides, good luck smashing my face, it’s not like you could really harm an immortal.” 

“Oh, I fucking love ‘aving a racist as a leader.” 

“And I love having dumb, smelly dudes as my servants. Wait, no, that sounded too gay.” 

“Aaaand he be a homophobe as well. Nice.” 

“I do not fear the homos, I happen to know one.” Then, Garrosh lowered his voice when he pondered to himself. “Isn’t Vol’jin gay? I think he left me to fuck some panda dudes.” 

“Ya tried ta kill him!” 

“I did not –” 

“Wait,” another person spoke – this time a beautiful blonde elf, to whom Garrosh was more than happy to turn his attention to. “You’re immortal?” 

“Yeah.” 

“How and when exactly did you figure out you were immortal?” 

“Well... I’m glad someone FINALLY asked!” Garrosh lifted his mug, took a long sip, and began his story. 

“It was probably the third time I was here – not in this tavern, but in this _life_. Something was off, I knew it! I was supposed to conquer all of Azeroth, not to be captured by a group of misfits.” 

“Uhh,” the elf interrupted, “you haven’t been captured by anyone.” 

“Oh, but I will be!” he snarled. “Also, do not interrupt my story again. Capishe?” 

“Uhh...” 

“It’s elvish for idiot. You should know that.” 

“It’s really...” Garrosh glared at her. “Yes, I’m a capishe. Alright. Please, Mr Warchief, carry on with your amazing story.” 

Garrosh nodded in satisfaction, missing all the sarcasm in the woman’s voice. 

“So, there I was, for the third time. Defeated. Bleeding. Still gorgeous. Laying on the ground, waiting for death to claim me. But I realized – death wasn’t coming, no. I was to be captured, put on trial by the Panda-gods. I could remember what would happen to me! I could remember my future!” 

Garrosh stopped for a moment to down the rest of his beer. While he ordered another three, he missed the look the elf and the troll shared – a look of utter disbelief and amusement. 

“So, where was I? Right! I realized I was immortal, living the same life over and over again. With that knowledge, you’d think I could change everything, right?” 

“Uhh... ya mon?” 

“Yes, definitely, my Warchief.” 

“Exactly!” Garrosh bellowed. Then, lowering his voice, he whispered: “Wrong.” 

Garrosh leaned back on his chair. “You see, no matter what I did, things went down the same way. I tried to kill Vol’jin personally a few lives ago – somehow, he still came back to beat my ass. I had Taran Zhu, that annoying fat bear, killed – some other annoying panda dude replaced him. Don’t ask me who, they all look the same to me!” 

Garrosh stopped for a moment to let out an annoyed sigh. “Then I realized none of that would matter.” 

“Oh,” the elf whispered while running a finger around the top of her wine glass. “Please continue, this is getting interesting.” 

“Nothing would matter until Draenor. You see, after I was rescued from my pointless, dull trial, I ventured back in time to my home world, to my father. I would rescue him from the curse of fel and...” 

While Garrosh rambled on, the elf leaned to whisper to the troll. 

“Is this getting confusing to follow or is it just me?” 

“Na, dis whole story makes no sense mon. Even less dan Vol’jin ‘aving a panda-boyfriend does. I be starting ta think Garrosh be crazy.” 

“Starting to?" the elf questioned almost silently. Luckily, the Warchief was too distracted by his awesome story to notice the exchange of words. 

“Eh, more crazy anyways. Insane might be a better word for him.” 

“AND,” Garrosh now yelled while standing on his barstool, snapping the couple's attention back to his story, “that’s how Thrall killed me in Nagrand. Every. Single. Life. All I had to do was change that one little moment, and I would get EVERYTHING I had ever dreamed of.” 

“Did dat work?” the troll asked, his slurred voice dripping with sarcasm. Garrosh didn’t notice. 

“What do you think, would I still be here had I succeeded?" Garrosh shook his head. "No need to worry your tiny brain over that, I’ll give you the answer. I failed. This is my 13th time trying to prevent my final end. But this time, I will not fail!” 

”Great,” the elf cheered with faked enthusiasm while clapping her hands, ”good luck with that!” 

”MY STORY IS NOT OVER YET!” Garrosh bellowed, making the troll wince whilst the elf merely smirked. 

”Of course it’s not, but we realllly must get back to work. You know, to help you the best we can in every way. Good luck with your plans, sir.” 

The elf got up in a hurry, bowed, and scurried out of the tavern with the stumbling troll in her tow. 

”It’s good to know that some elves are still loyal to me,” Garrosh spoke to the bartender-elf, who rolled his eyes. ”And to think that I considered you all just a bunch of useless faggots a few lives ago.” 

”Warchief,” the bartender spoke cautiously. Garrosh nodded for him to go on. 

”Why do you think you are stuck here, living the same life over and over again?” 

”Duh, isn’t it obvious?” After getting a confused stare from the elf, Garrosh waved his muscular arms around frantically. 

”I get yet another chance to WIN!” 

The bartender shook his head. ”What if you are wrong?” 

”GARROSH IS NEVER WRONG!” 

”…” 

”…but what do you mean by that?” 

The elf straightened his back before leaning on the counter. 

“What if you are stuck in this endless loop of failure and torment as punishment for your sins?” 

Garrosh’s smug grin faltered and a look of utter horror passed his face, but that look was gone in a second. He slammed a fist on the counter and growled. 

“Why would I deserve to be punished in such a dumb way!?” 

“Oh,” the elf casually picked up one of the mugs that Garrosh’s hit had knocked over, “I don’t know... You did just use an inaccurate slur while referring to an entire race. That’s not really nice. You're not really nice. And to add to that, the list of all your war crimes is quite a lengthy one.” 

The Warchief let out a loud laugh. “You’re wrong! Once I die, for good, after I have conquered all of Azeroth AND Draenor, I will be celebrated as a GOD in the afterlife. There shall be NO punishment for A MIGHTY SOUL LIKE ME!” 

Garrosh drowned the rest of his ale in one go and smashed the mug down so hard that it cracked into millions of tiny pieces. 

“NOW!” he spoke to the entire bar, which was mostly empty. Not that Garrosh noticed. 

“LET’S GO KILL SOME ALLIANCE DOGS SO THAT I MAY BE DIVINIZED.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yea I should probably admit that I was not fully sober myself when I came up with this idea and began writing this.


	5. A Romantic Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4\. Graveyard exploring  
> After his father's death, Wrathion tries to cheer up his boyfriend with a romantic date. Unfortunately, the dragon doesn't quite understand the mortals' concept of romance.  
>  **TW: Mentions and talk about death**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place somewhere after Varian died, in an AU where Wrathion didn't help Garrosh and stab Anduin in the back.

* * *

“Let me get this straight,” Anduin spoke, making his boyfriend chuckle. “...what?”

“Nothing,”  Wrathion smiled and gently caressed the young king’s hand. “Your poor choice of words merely amused me. But please, do continue.”

Anduin squeezed  Wrathion’s fingers a bit more harshly than necessary. Had the Black Prince been an ordinary human, Anduin would have most likely broken a few bones. But the dragon merely grinned.

“I was going to ask you if you were serious about what you said earlier.”

Wrathion stared at his beloved with a blank stare. Anduin slumped his shoulders and sighed.

“You told me this would be a romantic date. Remember?”

“Oh, right,”  Wrathion replied while shaking his head, “definitely, I remember. And I meant it wholly.”

Wrathion let his eyes wonder around the area. The Blue Child was gazing down on them directly from above, fully visible. The night sky was filled with stars – and Anduin loved stars, Wrathion thought. Not to mention the gentle breeze around them that made the surrounding forest seem gentle yet alive. 

“Yes,”  Wrathion replied slowly, still deep in his thoughts, “this has all the elements of romance that you mortals crave, am I correct?”

“No,” Anduin retorted, unnecessarily harshly in the dragon’s opinion. Then  Wrathion thought he realized his mistake.

“There’s no rain here,”

“...what?” Visibly confused, Anduin seemed to have forgotten his frustration with the prince. 

“You mortals consider kissing in the rain one of the most romantic experiences, do you not?”

“Wrathion?”

“Yes, my love?”

“We,” Anduin yelled, “are in a cemetery! In Horde territory!”

Wrathion winced. “ RIght . I forgot about the importance of territory for your people.”

The young king of Storwmwind let go of his lover’s hand. He sighed.

“You really don’t realize that a cemetery is not the most romantic destination? Especially after all the death that my people have suffered thanks to the Burning Legion...”

Now it was  Wrathion’s turn to sigh. “Right. I forgot that you mortals view death so differently than we.”

"You consider being surrounded by dead corpses sexy?” Anduin asked playfully yet humorlessly and nudged Wrathion in the ribs. The dragon gave him a glare.

“No, that’s not what I had in mind.”  Wrathion’s voice was void of humor. “I merely thought that, especially after all the death this world, and you, have suffered, this might be a good reminder.”

“Reminder of what?” Anduin asked slowly, but  Wrathion merely shook his head.

Then, he held out a hand for the human king. After just a second of hesitation, Anduin took it with a forced smile.

“Very well then. Show me.”

Anduin yelped when  Wrathion pulled the human forward and dragged him to a bunch of gravestones. They slowed down there, and Wrathion ran his eyes over the names carved in the headstones. Anduin followed his example.

They continued in that manner, circling around the small graveyard and walking in silence for many moments. Eventually,  Wrathion stopped. Anduin looked at the dragon, but instead of explaining anything, he nodded towards a few especially large headstones. The king of  Stormwind looked around for a while, trying to understand what the dragon wanted to show to him. He only saw death. Then, something caught his attention.

Anduin took a step forward and stopped in front of a particularly well-ornated tombstone. He ran his eyes over the carving in it – the human name was unfamiliar to him – and wondered. Then, he read the long-deceased's name out loud.

“Captain Jules Breeden.”

Wrathion looked at his beloved with curiosity in his eyes and waited for Anduin to speak.

“Thank you, Wrathion. This has reminded me of a saying that my father told me when I was younger.”

At the mention of the late King,  Wrathion tensed. Anduin, however, laid a hand gently on the prince’s shoulder.

“Varian told me that everyone leaves this world twice. Once when they die. And once when their name is spoken for the last time.”

“That’s a beautiful way of saying that.”

Anduin agreed by nodding. He then turned his eyes to the sky.

“Not all of these people buried here are really dead, just like none of the ones we lost in the war against the Legion are. They live on in their loved ones’ memories, and even in the memories of their enemies, their killers. Or perhaps a stranger remembers a time when they ran into that dead person once. Either way, the ones we lost are still alive in our memories. And I will never forget the Alliance soldiers who died fighting for justice and peace. Just like I will never forget my father, and the sacrifice he made.”

“I’m glad to hear that you realized what I wanted to show you,” Wrathion answered eventually, “but that’s not all I was thinking.” Anduin’s puzzled look silently urged Wrathion to explain. But first, the dragon took the human’s hand, and the two continued walking around the graveyard. 

“As you pointed out so observantly a while ago, we are in Horde territory. Forsaken territory, to be precise.”

“Right... You mean that some of the humans buried here aren’t actually dead, but Forsaken?”  Wrathion gave Anduin a nod.

“Life as one of those wretched creatures is not a life worth living, I would say.” 

“Perhaps not,”  Wrathion pondered, “but that was not my point. I meant that even when the body dies, the soul remains alive. The Forsaken are proof of that.”

Anduin stopped walking. He stayed still for a moment, looking around the gravestones, deep in his thoughts.  Wrathion waited by his side, patiently as always when dealing with mortals, especially the one he so deeply loved.

“So you’re saying that I shouldn’t be sad when someone is gone? Because they’re not really gone.”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t be sad. But you should take comfort in the thought that after the body dies, the soul continues living on another plane of existence.”

“We mortals,” Anduin chuckled at the word, “have a lot of opinions about afterlife. Trolls believe in the other side, some races believe in reincarnation. Nowadays, many believe that death is simply the end.”

“I will never understand how some choose to believe that, even when there’s so much proof against that theory.”

“What can I say?” Anduin shrugged. “Some simply refuse to believe in anything but the worst.”

Suddenly,  Wrathion looked more melancholy than Anduin had ever seen him before. He took the human king’s hand in his own and pressed a light kiss on Anduin’s forehead. Looking into his eyes, Wrathion spoke with a weary voice.

“That sort of mindset is only harmful to everyone.”

Again, the human shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps, but there’s nothing I can do about that.”

“So,” the king spoke after a few seconds, “you have helped me remember that the ones we lost still live on in our memories – and their spirits are most likely somewhere out of our reach, enjoying a peaceful afterlife or perhaps having fun on new adventures.”

“Those thoughts makes their death less devastating, don’t they?” Wrathion asked with kindness in his voice.

“Yes. But strangely, I still mourn for them.”

“You can’t make new memories with the friends and family you have lost. That’s enough of a reason to mourn. But perhaps the hope that you will one day meet them again is enough to get you through this life.”

“It is,” Anduin said, “for now at least.”

The young couple stood still for a while. Anduin gazed at the moon above them, and he smiled genuinely for the first time that night. Wrathion wrapped an arm around the human and pressed a kiss on top of his hair.

After another long moment, Wrathion nudged Anduin gently.

“I know this is not the kind of romantic date you had in mind, my love.”

“No,” Anduin answered, “but it was exactly what I needed. I had hoped that you would distract me from my sadness, but this was much better. Thank you.”


	6. Buried Alive By Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5\. Buried (Dead or Alive)  
> Sylvanas' plan to prank Nathanos backfires horribly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t decide between buried dead and buried alive, so I kind of found a way to pick both.  
> This chapter takes place in an AU where Sylvanas has feeeelings. Spooky, isn't it?

* * *

Nathanos Blightcaller opened his eyes to blinding darkness. For only a moment, he worried he might have lost his ability to see, but soon Nathanos realized his surroundings were merely void of all light. 

At that moment, when he ceased his frantic yet useless blinking, Nathanos realized two things. 

He was lying on his back on a hard surface, most likely wooden. 

And Sylvanas was to blame for his current state. 

Of course, Nathanos had no way to prove his latter realization, but there was no doubt of it in his mind. Especially after what had happened the previous night... 

Nathanos’ pondering was interrupted by the same melodic voice that he had just been thinking of. 

“Good morning, dear!” 

The voice was muffled and it came from above. At that moment, Nathanos came to a third realization. 

That bitch had buried her alive! 

“Sylvanas!” Nathanos yelled as loudly as he could, hoping the banshee could hear him. “Release me this instant!” 

It was quiet for a while. Nathanos began to fear that the stupid elf had already left. Then – 

“Hm, let me think,” came the lazy reply. “Nope.” 

“Seriously, I tire of these games of yours. You have gone too far this time.” 

“Oh have I?” the banshee spoke with amusement in her voice. Despite the fact that she spoke with normal volume, it felt like Sylvanas’ voice was ringing inside the coffin. 

“Release me,” Nathanos said, “right now!” 

When there was no answer, Nathanos slammed his curled fist against the coffin’s lid. Since he was buried, the lid didn’t budge, but a heap of dirt found its way inside the coffin and Nathanos. 

Nathanos could hear Sylvanas laughing in a mocking manner when he tried to cough the dirt from his lungs. 

A spike of anger surged through Nathanos. He was really getting tired of Sylvanas’ bullshit. 

“You know,” he spoke once the coughing had ceased, “I know exactly why you like tormenting me so much.” 

“Oh,” Syvanas chuckled. “I highly doubt it. But please, go on.” 

“Well, you know why little kids tease each other?” 

“Because kids are dumb. One good thing about Undercity, we don’t have those little fuckers.” 

“Yeah, nope. That’s not it.” Quietly, Nathanos groaned at his ever so annoying queen. 

“Then why do dumb kids tease each other? Please tell me since you’re such an expert on kids!” 

The Blightcaller shook his head. “Because they _like_ each other. 

“Nathanos,” Sylvanas sounded baffled, and Nathanos smiled smugly. “Do you really think I have a crush on you?” 

“Nope,” he answered casually, “I think you’re desperately in love with me.” 

“I – I have no words for your idiocy. Be glad you’re buried there or I would rip off your spinal cord.” 

“Ohh, I’m so scared. Did I hit a nerve, My Queen?” 

Nathanos could almost hear the embarrassed banshee's fuming. This was his chance to get back at her. 

The Blightcaller knew he could either do that, or he could get out of this mess. He had to choose. 

“There’s no reason to feel bad about it,” he spoke after a moment with a softer, kinder voice. “I should probably admit that I have feelings for you too, Sylvanas.” 

The silence had Nathanos believing that the banshee had already left, for a moment. But after waiting a minute or so, Nathanos got an answer. 

“You’re serious?” 

“Do you really believe I would lie about something this important?” Nathanos smiled smugly despite the fact that Sylvanas clearly couldn’t see him. He ran a finger over the wooden lid of the coffin and let out a laugh. 

“Yes, I am serious.” 

“Oh... Well then. I guess I can admit that I might be a little fond of you, Nathanos. More than as a friend.” 

“That’s... actually really nice to hear. So...” 

Everything was quiet again. After more than a few minutes, Nathanos’ patience ran out. 

“Could you get me out of here so we can have this conversation face to face?” 

This time, the soft, almost shy reply came immediately. 

“I would like that.” 

* * *

It took surprisingly long to get Nathanos out of his grave, and even longer for him to clean all the dirt from his hair. While doing that, the Blightcaller had plenty of time to figure out what to say to Sylvanas. Still, he wasn't sure he had found the right words. Nathanos worried he might still get killed. Or worse.

But there was only so much stalling he could do. Taking a deep breath, although he didn't need to breathe, Nathanos opened the door into Sylvanas' rooms, where she was waiting. 

The banshee sat on her couch, looking as beautiful as a dead elf could. When she saw Nathanos, her face lit up. She got up with unnatural grace and walked to him.

“So,” Sylvanas’ echoing voice spoke, softly for once. “About what we talked earlier...” She discreetly reached for Nathanos’ hand, but the Blightcaller took a step back. 

“Yeah, I was just teasing you.” 

All warmth drained from Sylvanas’ eyes in a heartbeat, and she bared her fangs. 

“What?” she yelled while glaring at Nathanos with the heat of a thousand Suns. The human feared that the banshee’s look alone would kill her. Nathanos took yet another step back, slowly, then twelve more to his left a little less slowly. 

“Look,” he tried to reason as calmly as he could, “YOU BURIED ME ALIVE! For your own amusement! Do you really think I could have feelings for a bitch like you?” Nathanos winced at his own wording.

Welp, now he was sure that he would die painfully. Still better than the alternative, he thought – being in a relationship with his queen. But to Nathanos’ great amazement, Sylvanas just stared at him, frozen in place, an empty look in her eyes that had been filled with both joy and wrath just moments ago. 

“Alright. Here’s what will happen now,” Nathanos said, but his voice was questioning. He was, in a way, still asking for the Banshee Queen's approval. 

“I will leave Undercity, and go to the Warchief. I’ll tell him about this whole situation and ask for a job in Orgrimmar. We never have to see each other again. I won’t be here reminding you of this embarrassment, and you won’t treat me horribly anymore.” 

“I wouldn’t treat you badly anyways. Nathanos, I – “ 

“Don’t, please,” the Blightcaller groaned. “I lied that I had feelings for you only to get back at you for burying me alive. But this is just getting sad.” 

"You never cared about me."

Nathanos let out a heavy sigh. The banshee's depressed voice was more concerning than anger.

"I cared about you as my queen. But I could never be in love with you. It's best for the both of us if I just leave and allow you to move on."

"I've never been in love before," Sylvanas admitted. A tear fell down her face and to the floor, which baffled Nathanos. He didn't know that the undead could cry.

"You'll be fine without me. Maybe you'll find someone better."

"But I want you," she whispered, one last desperate attempt to make Nathanos stay. 

"I'm sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be fluffy! I don't know what happened. Sorry...
> 
> This chapter's title is actually a song by HIM, and funnily enough, its lyrics partly fit this chapter. Also, this was one of my favorite songs when I was a sad emo teen. Probably the reason why this turned into a sad emo fic now that I think of it...
> 
> "I never wanted to fool you, no  
> But a cold heart is a dead heart  
> And it feels like I've been buried alive by love"


	7. Missing Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6\. "I know you missed me, just admit it. I saw you visit my grave every day."  
> During the Battle for Broken Shore, Sylvanas Windrunner was killed by a demon. Or was she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This can be read as friendship or pre-slash. It's up to you, really.

* * *

“Jaina Proudmoore. You have been lonely in my absence, it would seem.” 

The mage turned around in shock after hearing that so familiar voice she had imagined every day for the past three months. 

“Sylvanas... You’re alive?” 

“Yep. Not even death can hold me, you guys should have realized that by now.” 

“Oh...” Jaina answered, not really knowing what to say. Sylvanas smirked at the speechless mage. 

“I know you missed me, just admit it. I saw you visit my grave every day.” 

Sylvanas gestured to the headstone behind her. At first, Jaina looked at the banshee in confusion, but then her eyes turned cold. 

“You let me believe you were gone for good, even when you saw how devastated I was!?” 

Sylvanas smiled sheepishly. “I’m the queen of the dead. What did you expect? That I would be nice?” She let out a hollow laugh. 

Jaina’s gaze melted just the tiniest bit. She didn’t sense any malice from Sylvanas – just loneliness and sorrow. 

“Why did you let everyone think you were dead?” she asked instead of lashing out like she had intended at first. 

Sylvanas shook her head. 

“At first I was really dead. Then, I didn’t just feel like letting you guys know that I had returned. I liked the break from all the politics and people in general, you know?” 

“I don’t believe you. Well, not about the latter part at least.” 

“You think I care what you think?” Sylvanas snapped, the volume of her melodic voice rising. 

“I think,” Jaina continued, ignoring Sylvanas’ question, “that you had another reason to stay dead.” 

Sylvanas let out a long, exhausted sigh. She took her time in walking to a nearby boulder, and she climbed atop of it and sat down. Sylvanas pulled one knee to her stomach and let her arms rest around the leg, whilst the other hanged in the air. 

Jaina waited patiently for her to speak again. 

“Well, not that it’s any of your business, but... Azeroth seemed... better, without me. And Lilian Voss is doing a better job at leading the Forsaken as part of the Horde than I ever could have.” 

“But _you_ are their queen, not she.” 

“I might have once been, but not anymore. And besides, she is better than I was. She’s less selfish, at least. I would have ended up destroying the Horde or something. Maybe all of Azeroth.” 

Jaina let out a weary sigh, and she sat down next to the banshee. 

“I don’t believe that. I _won’t_ believe that.” 

Sylvanas looked into the mage’s eyes, and saw nothing but compassion. 

“Thanks. That means a lot, coming from you,” she admitted hesitantly, but she was nevertheless speaking the truth. 

“So...” Jaina broke the silence that felt like a short eternity. “Are you going to come back, then? To the Horde, I mean? To your people?” 

Sylvanas stayed still for a moment before shaking her head. 

“No matter what you say, I still think staying away is the best thing I can do right now. At least that way I can be as selfish as I want without hurting those around me.” 

“I care about you, you know. And,” Jaina chuckled, “no matter that you say, I’ll stay around.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t. And I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Being alone for an eternity will do that, despite how hard you try to deny or hide it.” 

Sylvanas got up in one swift motion and walked away from the mage in silence. Jaina watched her, not moving a muscle. 

Halfway to the forest that surrounded them, she stopped and looked behind, to Jaina, a playful twinkle in her eyes. 

“Same time and place tomorrow, then?” 

Jaina smiled warmly despite the freezing wind. 

“I’ll be here.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters with Sylvanas in a row?  
> I know many hate her but I don't know, I just love her character. When she isn't trying to murder everyone, that is.  
> And yes, although I have my favorite ships, I enjoy writing a lot of different pairings for the same characters. With that being said, tomorrow's fic will feature yet another Jaina-ship that everyone loves!


	8. Trapped in a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 7\. Midnight Ball  
> Jaina dreams of a time when she was truly happy.

* * *

On a dark, starless October night, the Lady of Theramore slept restlessly in her bedchamber. For the last three months, ever since her beloved was slain, she had only had dreamless nights or nightmares. But that night, Jaina dreamed of a better time – a time when she was still young, in love, and only worried about passing her next exams. 

In her dream, the sky was laden with stars, and both the White Lady and the Blue Child were looking over the kingdom of Lordaeron from high above. Jaina’s mind was as tranquil as her surroundings were when she made her way to the main gate. That night, King Terenas Menethil was hosting a ball in honor of his son’s birthday. 

Normally, Jaina couldn’t even dream of being invited to such an event, but the prince himself had specifically asked for her companionship. She was, after all, his girlfriend, and hopefully, his future bride. 

Inside the ballroom, bright lights blinded Jaina. The room was decorated beautifully, and it was filled with gorgeous human and even elven women in enormous, majestic dresses. Jaina looked at her own robe – beautiful and well-sewn, for sure, but was it breathtaking enough to keep the prince’s attention? Jaina could only hope so. 

Just as Jaina thought about her beloved boyfriend, someone tapped on her shoulder. The mage turned around, excitement flooding to her youthful face, and she threw herself into her lover’s arms. 

“Arthas,” she cried with pure joy. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too, Jaina,” he replied sincerely, with a hint of a smile on his face. “I must apologize for my father, he should be here with me but alas, something came up.” 

Jaina shook her head. “I came here for you, not so that I could speak with King Menethil.” Then, she hugged Arthas tightly, burying her face against the crook of his neck. 

“Well, I am glad you came then.” 

“Yeah,” she beamed, “so am I.” 

The young couple danced the night away, Arthas spinning and holding Jaina in his strong, safe arms. The mage laughed like she hadn’t before, and she hoped the night would never end. 

After a particularly fast-paced dance, the music slowed. Jaina leaned her cheek against the prince’s shoulder and let out a sigh. 

”Arthas. There’s something I have been longing to tell you all night.” 

Arthas stopped their waltz and lifted Jaina’s head up with one finger, urging her to look into his warm green eyes. 

”You should know by now that you can tell me anything, Jaina.” The mage’s eyes glimmered brightly, and she gently held both of Arthas’ hands in her own. 

”I love you,” she confessed with a shy yet hopeful smile. 

“You love me?” 

“How could I not?” Jaina asked instead of replying, her smile ever brighter. “You’re my perfect, good-hearted prince.” 

“Are you so sure about that?” Arthas pulled Jaina closer to his chest and placed a finger under her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes this time. Those bright green orbs were slowly darkening, beginning to illuminate ominously. Arthas’ whole kind expression turned harsh when all light in his eyes was replaced by that hollow, icy glow. 

“Arthas?” Jaina asked, her high-pitched voice cracking. She tried to pull away from the prince, but he grabbed her wrist, pressing it so hard that Jaina feared her bones might crack. 

The clock struck twelve. 

Arthas’ long, blond hair turned colorless, as did his face. The hand around Jaina’s wrist turned cold as all warmth fled from the prince’s body. 

When Jaina stared at Arthas in horror, she realized he wasn’t breathing anymore. Arthas was dead. Her prince was gone, and in his place, inside his husk, stood a ruthless monster. 

”What’s the matter, Jaina?” he spoke with softness that surprised Jaina. She knew the death knight in front of her was not her Arthas, but his voice was too similar. Jaina reached out her free hand and touched his lifeless cheek. She yearned to wrap her arms around him, to hold him and tell him everything would be okay. 

But a part of her mind kept reminding her that she was faced with a murderer. 

Jaina pulled her trapped hand away with such force that it startled Arthas and gave the mage a chance to step back. 

”You killed him!” she remembered. ”You killed your own father in cold blood!” 

Arthas – no, not Arthas, but the soulless monster – smirked. ”Yes.” 

”You killed them all!” she screeched at the smiling death knight. She could finally remember it all, and with that realization, the dream crumbled. 

The beautiful women still dancing around them halted as they turned into corpses. Their skin and flesh seemed to melt off, and what remained turned to different shades of ivory and rot. Some bodies fell to the ground, dead, but some circled around Jaina. Those undead, mindless ghouls growled at her. The ballroom’s light dimmed, and once she was no more blinded by the lights and décor, Jaina saw blood everywhere on the walls, on the floor. She tried to further back away from all the horror, but she stepped on something – a severed, mangled human torso. She screamed. 

The death knight sniggered. ”Are you done freaking out yet, my love?” Jaina merely stared at the husk, her fearful eyes bright open. 

He extended his arm and held it out for Jaina, his palm turned upwards in an inviting manner. 

”Come. Take my hand and join me, Jaina. Together, we can rule all of Azeroth!” 

Jaina was tempted to take his hand only for the faintest moment. 

”Rule over what, a kingdom of death and suffering!? You can’t just call me love and expect me to agree to such bullshit!” 

”At least this way, we could be happy together. Isn’t that exactly what you wanted – to live forever with me by your side, all of eternity?” Arthas’ cruel, dead voice echoed around the now silent room. 

”I wanted,” Jaina spoke, tears welling in her eyes and her voice cracking completely, ”someone who would treat me and the world with kindness. I wanted to spend a wonderful lifetime with that person, not an eternity payed with others’ souls. I just wanted to be happy. Only for a moment.” 

A stream of tears rolled freely down the mage’s face and onto the floor, mixing in with the blood. Jaina looked up to Arthas, her pained eyes still twinkling with hope that she would see her prince, even one last time. 

The death knight, his expression blank, shook his head. 

”And I wanted one reason to not send you to the sea of bodies in my wake. I guess we both lose.” 

Frostmourne manifested out of thin air into the death knight’s hand. He stepped forward towards the mage, who was too stunned by her emotional suffering to even move. 

With one swift motion, pain surged through Jaina’s entire body and heart, and she woke up to her own chilling shriek. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize that I suck at writing happy ends.  
> Let me know if all this angst is too much, and I'll try writing something that doesn't end horribly for everyone :)  
> And, as always, comments keep me going so leave one if you have something to say!


	9. Savior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 8\. Chilly weather, bloody sweater  
> Koltira has been taken captive by the Scarlet Crusade yet again, and it's up to Thassarian to save him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during the time Thassarian and Koltira served under the Lich King, before the Battle for Light's Hope Chapel. 
> 
> **TW: Mild death**

Thassarian stepped over the dead bodies cautiously, making sure there was nothing left to attack him, before he made his way to Koltira. The elven death knight was held captive by metallic chains that bound him to a wall. Thassarian took out his sword, and with one slice, he freed his friend.

Koltira massaged his sore wrists and grinned at Thassarian before thanking him. Thassarian, however, did not reply to the smile. 

”Every time I save you,” he sighed heavily, ”you’re wearing nothing but pants. It’s been bothering me for a while now. Also, not to mention the amount of times I have saved you.” 

”It’s not even that high, to be honest. Three, I believe?” 

”This week, yes!” Thassarian shook his head. ”But never mind that, just give me an explanation.” 

“What can I say?” Koltira shrugged. “I look good without a shirt, and the enemies know that.” 

“Koltira!” Thassarian snapped. “I have no time for your stupidity. You need to stop getting captured and put on a shirt!” 

“Fine! Can I borrow yours?” 

One of their enemies was still alive, but neither of the men had yet to notice because of their bickering. She got to her feet, shakily, and winced in pain, alerting the death knights of her presence. 

In a split second, Thassarian’s sword was on her throat. 

“Thought you could get away after eavesdropping on the followers of the Lich King himself?” 

The woman shook her head, her wide brown eyes filled with fear. Despite that, she spoke: 

“I didn’t get anything important! I swear, I just heard you two arguing about the shirt that he threw behind those barrels just before he let us capture him!” She pointed a finger to the corner of the room. 

“Lies! Koltira yelled and send a bolt of death forwards, which hit the woman right in the chest, killing her immediately. 

Thassarian gave his friend a glare. 

“What?” the elf shrugged. 

“Let’s see if that wench was speaking the truth,” Thassarian merely replied. He turned away from the corpse and walked to the corner of the room, despite Koltira’s various protests. 

Thassarian kicked away the barrels, revealing a horrible, wooden piece of clothing that was covered in blood. 

“Well well well...” 

“That doesn’t prove that I stripped it myself!” Thassarian stared at Koltira with an unconvinced look. “Alright, maybe I did. But only so that my sweater wouldn’t get ruined.” 

“It looks ruined enough to me,” Thassarian muttered. Then: “Wait. Why were you wearing only a sweater when in enemy territory?” 

The elf shrugged, smiling sheepishly. 

“Sweaters are great for chilly weather.” 

“We can’t feel cold!” Thassarian growled. He watched as Koltira put his sweater back on, but it did a poor job in covering the elf’s chest. He just looked even more unkempt. 

“Koltira,” Thassarian spoke after he managed to avert his eyes from the elf’s abs, “did you really let these Scarlet Crusaders capture you on purpose, like she told me?” He nudged his head towards the female corpse. 

“...no?” His answer sounded more like a question, which made Thassarian groan. He grabbed the front of Koltira’s sweater and forcefully dragged him out of the chapel, where he had been held prisoner. 

Once they were outside, surrounded by nothing but corpses and cold winter air, Thassarian spoke again. 

“You know, if you want me to see you shirtless, there are easier ways for that.” Subtly, he slid his hand that was still gripping Koltira’s sweater down the elf’s side, and wrapped his fingers around his hand. He held on to it while they walked, and Koltira didn’t try to pull back – the death knight merely smirked. 

“I know, Thassarian. But I do enjoy it when you save my life.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If two death knights under the control of Arthas were able to become friends (brothers, even), I’m pretty sure they’re also capable of developing romantic feelings for each other. 
> 
> RIGHT? 
> 
> Oh, this is the first time I'm writing either of these two, so my apologies if they are out of character or something!


	10. Clash of Kings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9\. I’m not completely human anymore. Remember that next time you go to punch me in the face.  
> Two kings of the Alliance have some... unresolved tension between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place somewhere around Cataclysm/Mists of Pandaria? 
> 
> This wasn’t supposed to be shippy, but come on! These two definitely have some sexual tension... Right? But I guess this can be read as purely platonic if you squint?
> 
> To be honest, ever since reading Wolfheart, I have been low-key shipping these idiots.
> 
> Remember to leave a kudos and comment if you like my writing! :)

* * *

“Good evening, mister Greymane.” 

“It’s King Greymane,” King Greymane corrected. “Good evening to you too, mister Wyrm.” 

“Did you just purposely ignore my title AND mispronounce my legendary name that everyone on Azeroth knows?” 

“Yep. After you disrespected me intentionally.” 

“Wow. Very mature, sir Greyarse,” Varian mocked with an exaggerated Gilnean accent. 

Tyrande and Jaina, the only other people in the room, took one look at each other before the mage spoke. 

“I think we should go, don’t you agree, Tyrande?” 

“Yes,” a rushed reply came. “We have stuff to do. Don’t kill each other, okay?” 

Without waiting for an answer, the two women vanished from sight. For a moment, both Varian and Genn were confused, but they quickly remembered their budding argument. 

“Call me anything else than King Greymane ever again and I’ll bite your ugly face off.” 

“Fine. Call me anything other than High King Wrynn and I’ll fuck... Wait, no. I’ll kill you. With my sword... yep.” 

For one awkward moment, the two kings stared at each other in confusion. Genn was trying to decide if he should use Varian’s slip to humiliate him. Varian, in turn, contemplated whether he should actually kill Genn or not. 

Eventually, the Gilnean spoke again. 

“Fine. Although I do feel weird calling someone so tiny “High” King. How are you even so short?” Genn mocked. “Did your dad fuck a gnome?” 

“You’re a little bitch, you know that right? Go run home to your wife, with your tail between your fucking butt cheeks, unless you want to get beaten to death right now.” 

Genn merely smirked. He knew he had gotten under Varian’s armor. 

“This is why no one likes you, Varian. You’re not only terrible at being a leader, but you have an unbearable personality as well. It’s a wonder your son hasn’t ran away to Velen for good already.” 

Genn was going to keep talking, but he was cut off by a direct hit on his face. The impact hurt, and a sharp, cold pain lingered long after Varian had calmed down. 

The King of Gilneas stared at Varian with burning hatred and snarled, baring his fangs as he turned into a worgen. He towered over the High King of the Alliance and poked him in the chest with one clawed finger. 

“I’m not completely human anymore. Remember that next time you go to punch me in the face.” 

Varian wasn’t affected by the worgen’s threat. He didn’t even flinch when faced with the man-turned-monster. He just smiled. 

And punched Genn in the face. Again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An hour later, Varian made a good effort in trying to kill Genn with his sword. 
> 
> A week later, Queen Mia Greymane divorced her husband, who didn’t mind at all. 
> 
> A year later, High King Wrynn punched his new husband in the face during their wedding ceremony.


	11. Anduin’s Perilous Adventures 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10\. Abandoned house  
> Anduin goes for a calming evening ride around Redridge Mountains.  
> Things take an interesting turn when he finds a seemingly abandoned house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place after Anduin freed Saurfang, but before the Horde adventurers find him.

* * *

The sun was setting as Anduin rode through Redridge Mountains. The king had sneaked away from his personal guards, to their great concern, so that he could clear his mind. The whole war against Sylvanas’ Horde was taking its toll on on him. 

As the sky darkened, Anduin rode past a wooden, time-worn house. Its windows were covered in dust, those that weren’t broken at least, and the outside of the building was filthy. 

Curious about the house Anduin had never seen, he ordered his horse to ride closer. The steed, however, let out a loud protest and halted. Anduin’s best attempts to get the horse to obey, or to calm down, failed. After considering his options – leaving or approaching by foot – Anduin dismounted. 

“Wait here,” Anduin whispered and petted his steed’s muzzle. Then, he left his backpack by the animal’s side, only taking his father’s sword with him. 

Anduin considered drawing his weapon but quickly decided against it. The house looked clearly abandoned, and if anyone dwelled there, they were most likely not a threat to the priest. 

Without hesitation, Anduin pulled the creaking door ajar and stepped in. 

After which he immediately burst into a coughing fit. The room inside was filled with dust, and Anduin was convinced that the odd smell hanging in the air was mold. Then, the king had a horrible realization. If someone, or something, was still residing in that house, they would have definitely heard Anduin by now. 

Anduin walked, without making a sound this time, through the dark room. All daylight had already vanished, so Anduin had trouble seeing around him. Briefly, he considered illuminating the room with his holy magic, but decided against it in a heartbeat. The light could attract enemies. Although Anduin knew that the chance of encountering an actual dangerous foe within Alliance territory was unlikely, all the wars the young king had seen had taught him caution. One could never be too careful. 

Then, while contemplating whether he should venture upstairs or to the next room on the first floor, Anduin heard a sound. A floorboard creaking underneath heavy weight. But the priest was standing still and the sound came further away. As quietly as he could, Anduin drew his sword. 

He didn’t get a chance to use it. A fierce growl came from behind the human king and before he could turn around, in less than a blink of an eye, someone wrestled the sword out of his hand and grabbed his throat from behind. 

“Try anything and you’re dead,” a quiet voice drawled. A harsh voice, clearly belonging to an orc. 

Anduin recognized that voice. 

“Saurfang!?” 

The pressure on his throat eased but the orc didn’t let go. 

“High King Anduin Wrynn. I didn’t notice it was you. Are you alone?” 

“Yes,” he assured, “discounting my horse, but he refused to come near this building. What are you doing here?” 

“Me? I should ask what you are doing here, especially without guards. You almost got killed!” Then, as an afterthought, he continued: “I could still kill you.” 

Anduin snorted. “Sure. Anyways, I just needed to clear my head. Hence why I was alone, in the dark, exploring a seemingly abandoned house in the middle of nowhere. You know, put that way, it doesn’t sound that smart.” Anduin tried to shook his his head, then – 

“I told you not to move.” 

“Technically, you told me not to try anything.” 

“Yep. Anything. Including moving.” 

Anduin sighed. “Look, I pose no threat to you. Could you just release me already?” 

Saurfang seemed to to consider his options for he stayed silent for a moment. 

“No,” he answered eventually, making the human groan. 

“Fine. Just tell me why you’re hiding in Alliance territory.” 

“Sylvanas wants me dead,” he answered simply. “She will find me anywhere I go inside the Horde territory. Figured she wouldn’t look for me in here.” 

“You attacked me because you thought – “ 

“That you were her assassin, yes. Obviously I was wrong.” 

Both the orc and the human stayed silent, and still, for long. Saurfang appeared to be deep in his thoughts again, and although Anduin would never admit it, he was enjoying the weird closeness with the older warrior. 

“Thank you,” Saurfang spoke a while later, his words hesitant yet honest. “You freed me, and gave me a chance to make sure Sylvanas dies for good. I haven’t forgotten that yet. In return for that _kindness_ ,” he growled, “I wont kill you just yet.” 

Anduin rolled his eyes when Saurfang removed his hand from the king’s throat, and he turned around to face the orc. 

“I know you wouldn't have killed me either way.” 

“Yes. Because you and your army are useful in taking down the banshee.” 

Anduin chortled. “I doubt that’s the whole reason.” 

“It is.” 

“I think you’re sparing my life oh-so graciously just because deep down, you like me.” 

“Anduin.” 

“Yes?” 

“Get out of _my_ house before I change my mind and disembowel you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't help shipping Anduin with everyone, though I am kind of conflicted about this ship (probably because of the age difference). Oh well, I still like it.
> 
> Oh, and as the chapter title suggests, this is getting a sequel! Or, most likely not an actual sequel, but rather another chapter where Anduin is in mortal peril. So please, if you'd prefer more of this ship or some other Anduin ship, feel free to comment. I might take suggestions occasionally :)


	12. Day of the Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 11\. Horror Movie Marathon  
> Illidan enjoys (more like suffers through) a horror movie marathon with his friends and his insufferable brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story takes place in a modern au where magic doesn’t exist, demons are only a myth and all of our favorite characters are dumb teens. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

Halfway through October, all networks were flooded with horror movies, for Hallow’s End would soon be upon Azeroth. 

Illidan had invited his friends, warden trainee Maiev Shadowsong and aspiring priestess Tyrande Whisperwind, his girlfriend, over to see a brand new movie called Day of the Demons. 

For some reason that Illidan couldn’t figure out for the life of him, his brother who hated all horror movies had wanted to join them. And because Illidan was such a good brother, and there was only so much of Malfurion’s complaining he could bear, he allowed him to join. Besides, Illidan thought, having Malfurion around might be a good idea. Illidan could never figure out why Tyrande got so angry when the two of them were alone with Maiev, but with his brother around, his girlfriend was less insufferable. 

One hour into the movie and everything was going well. Illidan was joking around with Maiev comfortably, his head on his friend’s shoulder. Tyrande was only sending an occasional glare at their way – she was mostly terrified of the movie, or too busy whispering with Malfurion to care about Illidan. 

“These demons are pretty cool,” Illidan noted after a moment and pointed at the screen where a long-clawed beast ripped apart its victim’s flesh. Maiev shook her head, her long white hair swaying around her and almost hitting Illidan in the eye, and she pushed Illidan’s head away from her. 

“These demons,” Maiev’s harsh, cold voice spoke, “are nothing but that. Demons. Monsters. Were they really real, I would slay each and every one of them, just like Huntress Eladrina will!” 

“Oh please,” Illidan groaned, “Eladrina couldn’t even kill that one dreadlord, she can’t possibly defeat all of the Burning Legion.” 

“Yes she – “ Maiev was cut off by a piercing shriek coming from her right. Tyrande was gripping her blanket, holding it over her face when a demon bit off a man’s head and feasted on his corpse. 

“See?” Illidan smiled smugly, paying no mind to his girlfriend in distress. “One demon just killed Eladrina’s only remaining ally. She’s all alone now. As good as dead, mark my words.” 

“Brother, I can’t believe you’re cheering for those monsters,” Malfurion’s aghast voice finally cut in. “They’re scaring Tyrande!” 

“M not scared,” she mumbled from under the blanket. Malfurion wrapped his arms around the soft blob. 

“Of course you’re not. You can look now by the way, the monster is gone.” 

“Well,” Illidan spoke, “if they were real, I would definitely want to be one of them!” 

“And then I’d have to hunt you down like an animal.” 

“And after you’d find me, I’d beat you and take you prisoner. Then, slowly, mayyyybe we could fall in love?” Illidan spoke fast, only slightly afraid of how Maiev would react. But, after all, he was only joking, so it's not like it even mattered. RIght? 

The young warden-in-training shrugged, then, stared off for a moment, deep in her thoughts. 

“Nope,” she eventually answered, “I would find a way to escape and kill you.” 

Tyrande groaned. “For that comment you made, Illidan, I might just kill you as well.” Illidan flinched. He had totally forgotten his overly pissed off girlfriend for a moment. 

For the rest of the movie, Illidan pouted and tried to ignore Tyrande’s angry glares. 

When the movie was over, Maiev finally spoke again.

"Who's up for another one?" She smirked. "It would be fun to have a horror movie marathon."

Despite everyone's' loud protests, Maiev chose another movie about demons and the rest had no choice but to suffer through it, and a third movie, reluctantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any/all mistakes and for the late update, this one was made in a hurry. Almost forgot to do this in time, but technically it's still October 11th somewhere in the world.


	13. Illidan’s Epic Screw-Up, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 12\. "I was really down for a couples costumes, but it this really the best you can do?"  
> Illidan finds yet another way to disappoint his girlfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is sort of continuation to yesterday’s story, so this also takes place in a modern au. If you didn’t read the previous part, no problem. The plots aren’t related. (But, you know... Same ship, same au. You'll probably like both of these if you like one. Just saying. Read and kudos!)
> 
> I don’t know why I enjoy writing Illidan as a dumb teen, but it’s refreshing. Less angsty than most stuff I write. Plus, who doesn’t like stupid teen drama?

“Tyrande!” Illidan smiled and leaned against his door frame. The elven priestess-in-training raised her eyebrows. 

“Hello. You were oddly cryptic in your message. Why did you request me here in such a hurry?” 

llidan smirked, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Do I need a reason to invite my beautiful girlfriend over?” 

“Yes, when you tell me it’s urgent. And no,” she continued when Illidan waggled his eyebrows, “carnal desires do not count as urgent.” 

Illidan pouted for a moment, then he realized: 

“That’s not even why I invited you here!” 

”Oh?” Tyrande frowned, then, she stepped past Illidan into his house. ”So you actually had something important to tell me?” 

“Yes,” Illidan groaned and slumped down on his worn-down couch. After glaring at the atrocious piece of furniture, Tyrande sat down on a slightly cleaner chair. 

“You should really get a new couch by the way. I think that one has mold growing on it.” 

“Can we focus on my important thing, love?” Illidan whined, and his tone made Tyrande chuckle. 

“Okay, fine. Let’s focus. So, why did you invite me here?” 

“In exactly eleven days, it's time for the Legendary Hallow’s End Party!” 

“The Legendary what?” Tyrande asked. Illidan stared at her like she had turned into a naga. 

“You don’t know about the Legendary Hallow’s End Party?” Tyrande shook her head. “You know, the one that Prince Varian Wrynn hosts in Stormwind keep every year?” 

“Nope, never heard of it.” Illidan screamed. 

“Everyone knows that! It’s only the most legendary event after the Prince’s Winter Veil –party.” 

“The what?” 

“You know what? I don’t know why I love you.” Tyrande frowned. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just... Every single year, I have hoped to get an invite And somehow, this time, Maiev got four tickets!” 

“Well, that’s cool...” Tyrande’s voice held only faintest hint of the hatred she felt for the warden-in-training, but Illidan ignored it. He would never understand why his girlfriend hated his best friend/enemy so much. 

“So? Are you coming with me? I was thinking it would be great to spend the most Legendary evening together with you... Oh, we could even wear a couples costumes! I actually had something in mind.” 

“Really?” Now Tyrande’s her eyes light up, and she smirked. “What did you have in mind?” 

“Well, since I’m obviously a rebel, I could dress up as a gorgeous, unkempt Horde adventurer! And you could be an Alliance guard. Is there anything more romantic than forbidden love?” 

“Oh, Illidan... I was really down for a couples costumes, but is this really the best you can do?” 

Illidan’s eyebrows slumped just like his shoulders. 

“What’s wrong with my idea.” 

“At the risk of sounding blunt, it’s lame,” Tyranda answered. 

“That wasn’t blunt at all. Just heart wrecking.” 

“Come on, we can come up with a better idea together.” 

“Nope,” Illidan groaned. “You don’t like my idea. That’s that. No couples costumes for us then!” 

Accompanied by an angry growl, Illidan stood up from his own moldy couch. 

“First you don’t know about the whole party, then you don’t like my costume idea even thought it’s awesome!” 

Tyrande shrugged and tried to look guilty, but her faked sad smile didn’t fool Illidan. 

“I can’t deal with this shit. I’m leaving!” Forgetting that the couple was arguing in Illidan’s apartment, he walked out of the front door and slammed it shut behind him. 


	14. Anduin's Perilous Adventures 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 13\. Hidden trap door  
> Lady Sylvanas Windrunner, Warchief of the Horde, is allegedly sending assassins to eliminate High King Anduin Wrynn of the Alliance.  
> Genn panics, as usual, and sends Anduin away to a safehouse.

* * *

“This whole thing is stupid. I assure you, there’s no reason for me to – “ 

“Yes, there is!” Greymane growled, glaring at the High King through the mirror. “We are doing this to protect you.” 

“Well what about all the other people that are left unprotected? And what about the fact that this is most likely just a false alarm? OR, what if this was their plan all along! To get me out of Stormwind, alone, where – “ 

“Anduin!” Greymane interrupted the younger king’s rambling. “The other people are not the target here. And Stormwind is taking all necessary actions to protect its citizens. They’ll be fine. And if it a false alarm, no harm done, right? I’d rather waste time and resourced than risk getting you assassinated.” 

The priest sighed. “I know.” 

“And besides, no one knows where you are. Jaina ensured no one can track you, or find you, with any spells. She is the only one who knows the location of your safehouse. And, if anything goes wrong, you are a capable fighter. Same goes for the twelve guards we sent with you. They truly are Alliance’s best, I was assured.” 

Anduin smiled despite the grim situation. Just a few hours ago, one of Alliance’s scouts had come to Stormwind Keep in a rush. She had told that the Banshee Queen was, apparently, sending assassins to get rid of the High King. Although Anduin didn’t really believe that the threat was real, he had, with some reluctance, allowed Greymane to go through with his plan to protect him. 

“Thank you, Genn. I’ll stay safe.” 

“You better. In the meanwhile, if there are assassins loose on Alliance territory, we will sniff them out and – “ 

“Please refrain from killing all of them. If there’s really a threat, I would prefer if you captured at least one assassin, or the more the better, for interrogations.” 

Greymane nodded. “Very well.” With that, his image disappeared from the mirror, and Anduin was alone in the dark room. 

Three hours went by, and the young king got bored. He got up from a bed and left his room, only to bump into one of his bodyguards. 

“King Wrynn,” he spoke. “You’re going somewhere?” 

“Just thought I’d stretch my legs a bit, take a walk around the building.” 

“Would you like me to accompany you?” 

Anduin waved his hand in the air nonchalantly. “There’s no need for that. The house is secure, and I will remain inside. It’s not like I could leave anyways through the wards Jaina placed,” he muttered the last part, talking more to himself. 

“Very well, my King. Should you have need of me or any of my colleagues – “ 

“I will let you know, yes. Thank you for your services to the Alliance.” 

Anduin turned around in a hurry and left the smug, smiling guard behind. 

Once he was finally alone, Anduin began to wander around the huge mansion. He made his way down the staircase to the front door. At some moments, Anduin worried he might get lost in the huge building, but every once in a while, he ran into another guard. 

Then, he found something peculiar. Another door, this time made from metal instead of wood, and it was locked. With a quick spell, after making sure no guard was in the range to see, Anduin broke the lock and pushed the heavy door open. 

The room was, disappointingly, empty. There was just an old, dusty carpet on the floorboards. 

Anduin refused to believe that someone had gone through the trouble of carefully locking up just a single, ugly rag. There had to be something more! 

He kicked the carpet aside to reveal a hidden trap door. 

“Yes!” he hissed, too excited by his discovery to stay silent but still smart enough to refrain from outright yelling and attracting all his bodyguards. 

Not even stopping to make sure it would be safe, too assured by Greymane’s grand speech about the safety of the safe-house, Anduin yanked the trap door open and climbed down. 

Immediately, Anduin was thrown against a wall by a familiar pair of big, muscular hands. Then the attacker seemed to realize who the humna was. 

“I apologize,” the orc spoke while still holding Anduin trapped. “I thought for a moment that you were one of the guards. 

“Let me go.” No reaction. Anduin sighed. “Please?” 

The orc released the High King and turned his back on him, taking a few steps away from the human. 

“We really have to stop meeting like this,” Saurfang turned around again and smirked. Anduin shook his head. 

“Why are you here? I refuse to believe meeting you twice in a week like this is a coincidence.” 

Saurfang shrugged. “The first time was definitely not planned, but it gave me an idea. And so, I snuck in here after learning about this place.” 

“There were no assassins, then. I knew it!” 

Saurfang snorted. “There definitely were, but no worries, I took care of that problem. Right after using it to get you here.” 

Anduin nodded. “So you possibly saved my life?” 

“Yeah, but that’s not important. Try to focus!” 

His tone was surprisingly soft, but nevertheless, Anduin frowned at the orc’s words. 

“Very well. Why did you go through all that trouble to get me here, alone, with you?” As he spoke, the human’s frown morphed into a smirk. 

“Remember how I said that your army could be useful against the banshee?” The frown was once again on the king’s face. It looked like Saurfang merely wanted to focus on the war. _Fine_ , Anduin thought, _I can do that too_. 

Slowly, he nodded. “I might recall something like that. But her army is still stronger, we can’t win as it is.” 

“I have a plan.” 

The orc sat down and slumped against a dusty wall. When he didn’t continue speaking right away, Anduin stepped closer and sat next to him. Then, cautiously, he leaned his head against the orc’s shoulder. Saurfang didn’t seem to mind. 

For a moment, Anduin merely sat still and leaned on Saurfang. The orc remained quiet. 

“Well?” Anduin spoke. “What’s the plan?” 

The orc’s growl almost scared the young human. After Anduin’s heartbeat had calmed down, Saurfang wrapped one muscular hand around the human, which made him tense up again. 

“I thought we could enjoy each others’ company for a moment before we get into that. You’re going to be stuck here for at least a few more hours, after all.” 

Anduin relaxed and beamed, his smile even brighter than his holy magic. 

Then – 

“Wait, how did you know I’d find you here? Or were you planning on sneaking to my room, past all the guards?” 

“To be honest, I was just going to get rid of them all. With murder.” 

Anduin’s smile vanished and it was replaced by a harsh, heated glare. 

“What? I’m just kidding. Mostly.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 1000 hits! Readers make me happy!
> 
> But comments and kudos make me even happier. Leave one today if you enjoy my writings! :)


	15. The Harvest Festival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 14\. Harvest festival and carnivals  
> Anduin Wrynn, son of the mighty Chieftain Varian Wrynn, tries and fails to enjoy Harvest Festival's carnival with his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a How To Train Your Dragon / World of Warcraft -crossover, though this takes place before the three movies and the series. Knowing the plot is not necessary for reading this.  
> If you haven't watched HTTYD (shame on you), basically this story's characters just live in a small, old Norse town and are in war with dragons. And Anduin has daddy issues, but that's nothing new.
> 
> Although I used most of my day playing WoW's new pre-patch, I managed to find time to write this. Enjoy!

* * *

  
Harvest Festival. A beautiful celebration filled with bright lights, food, and most importantly, happy people. 

Oh, and fires. 

The whole town of Stormwind was on fire. The Grand Hall was the only building that still looked more like an actual building than a giant bolt of flames, but its walls, too, were beginning to smoke. 

Anduin Wrynn, the only son of the mighty Chieftain Varian Wrynn, was running around the havoc like a headless chicken. 

Just an hour ago, everything had been going well. Anduin and his father had wandered around the carnival's area, enjoying some live music and each other' company. The streets were filled with stands which were, in turn, filled with all kinds of vegetables, fruits, and mushrooms. Anduin ate at least twelve apples and more baked potatoes that he would ever admit. 

It was a happy evening. For the first time in a while, Anduin was actually getting along with his father. Usually the great warrior was very vocally disappointed that his son wasn’t following his footsteps, but instead, was aspiring to become a priest of all things! 

Anduin was overjoyed by how well they got along, actually. It seemed like nothing could go wrong. 

Especially during moments like those, everything goes wrong horribly. That October evening was no exception.

The Harvest Festival was interrupted by a loud screech coming from the sky. Anduin’s worst fear was proven to be correct when he looked up and saw a dozen of winged beasts flying towards the village. 

His father jumped straight into action, just like a warrior-chieftain should. 

“Alright, people! Twelve dragons are approaching: I counted four blues, three reds, two greens, two red proto-dragons and a nether dragon.” 

“Oh cool, nether dragons are rare. Such pretty wings...” Varian merely spared his disappointment of a son one glare before continuing, speaking to the villagers that had gathered around them. 

“No sign of the Prince yet but he will be here as always, mark my words. And stay alert. Now go, get your weapons, shoot those beasts down!” 

“Well,” Anduin spoke, his voice shaking. “I should – “ 

“Get a weapon and finally start contributing to this war?” Varian interrupted. 

“I was going to stay hide somewhere and tend to the wounded once this is over.” 

Varian sighed. “Healers do not win wars. Losses are inevitable, and you can’t save everyone. It’s us warriors that do the real job.” 

“If I save even one warrior, that’s one more on the battlefield next time. Isn't that better than me dying out there because I don’t have the skills or the muscles to fight?” 

A groan from the chieftain shut Anduin up. 

“I don’t have time to argue, I got dragons to kill. Go hide if that’s all you can do, just stop wasting my time!” 

“Okay,” Anduin spoke, but Varian was already running away from him, “father.” He let out a sigh. 

So, as always during an assault, Anduin hid in his basement. Until a proto-dragon crashed into the roof, smashing it to pieces. Of course, Anduin didn’t know what had happened, he just heard the sound that made him shriek in pure fear. After a moment, the young man braved to make his way upstairs, only to find his house’s husk burning in flames around him. 

He ran outside and tried to find another safe place with no luck. 

Anduin hadn’t made it even halfway across the village when a great winged beast landed right in front of him. The young man froze.

The black dragon stood in front of Anduin and growled. Anduin should have been terrified, why wouldn’t he, he feared everything. But there was a certain humane look in the beast’s eyes that made Anduin feel safe. 

“Uhh, you won’t eat me, right?” he mumbled while staring into those deep red eyes. "Please don't." 

The dragon growled, surprising Anduin with how gentle it sounded. 

Then, with one sweep of its mighty wings, the dragon was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely want to write a full story about this idea (since I love HTTYD and Anduin/Wrathion). Would anyone here be interested in reading it? Leave a comment if you are and stay alert. I most likely won’t start anything new before November/December, but we’ll see how excited I get and if anyone is even interested.


	16. Horrid Decorations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 15\. “If one fake spider makes it anywhere near me while you are decorating, I swear I will punch you.”  
> In celebration of the upcoming Hallow's End, Warchief Vol'jin decided to decorate Grommash Hold

* * *

A scream of fear echoed from the bedroom into the living room, making Vol’jin groan. 

“What be it now?” 

The troll rushed towards the shriek and found Tyrathan, his boyfriend, standing on their bed. 

“What on Azeroth be ya doing?” Vol’jin asked. The human pointed at the wall across from him, right next to the troll. 

“Spider,” he simply whispered. 

Vol’jin spared one glance at the black, immobile bug. 

“Ya, I put dat dere. It be a decoration for Hallow’s End.” 

Vol’jin held up a black pouch that he had been carrying around. “See? I ‘ave been putting dese all over Grommash Hold dis morning.” 

Tyrathan let out a sigh of relief. 

“Thank the Light, I thought we had an infestation of those little monsters.” 

“Tyrathan Khort. Don’t tell me ya be afraid of dese tiny spiders.” 

The human shrugged. “Fine,” he admitted nonchalantly, “maybe small, stealthy little crawlers with hairy feet and lethal poison make me slightly uncomfortable. So what?” 

“Tyrathan.” 

“What?” 

“Can ya get down from da bed so we can ‘ave dis conversation like adults. 

“Okay.” Tyrathan took in a deep breath to calm himself and jumped down on the floor. He considered his next words for a moment in silence, then, he spoke hesitantly. 

“You can decorate if you want to, it’s kinda cute actually. Just take the spiders away and put them somewhere else than our rooms. Because if one fake spider makes it anywhere near me while you are decorating, I swear I _will_ punch you.” 

“Fake..?” Vol’jin questioned. “Is dat what ya humans use?” 

All color drained from Tyrathan’s face. “The spiders are not fake,” he realized. 

“Dey be real. But ya don’t have ta worry. De spiders be dead.” 

“Somehow, that makes it even more creepier.” 

“Ya being afraid of dead and fake spiders be even cuter dan my love for decorating.” 

Tyrathan gave his boyfriend an angry glare mixed with primal fear. 

“Get. The spider carcasses. Out. NOW!” 

Vol’jin took down the spider from the wall, put it in his pouch and rushed out of the room. After a minute, he glanced inside. 

“Ya don’t be mad at me, be ya?” 

Tyrathan was sitting on the bed, hugging his knees and gritting his teeth. 

“Not at all. Oh, by the way, you’re sleeping on the floor with your spiders for the rest of Hallow’s End.” 


	17. Dear Sylvanas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 16\. FREE SPACE  
> Nathanos writes a letter to his queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to use this free space to write a sequel for prompt number 5 (chapter 6, Buried Alive By Love.) Do read that first so this will make sense :)

* * *

The wind howled outside Grommash Hold. Inside his small office, Nathanos would have been shivering had the cold affected the undead. Instead, he merely frowned at how drafty his room was, and continued writing – not a report or any other work-related document, but a personal letter to a woman he had deeply hurt. After what he had said when he had been in Undercity the last time, Nathanos knew he had to fix the situation.

"Dear Queen Sylvanas 

I feel like I owe you more than an apology, but this is all I can offer you at the moment. I apologize for everything.

For what it is worth, I always considered you a friend. I still care about you, truly, just not in a way that you would wish. There is nothing I can do to change that, and there is nothing you can do either, so please, do not blame yourself. The fault is not yours. Perhaps I am merely too heartless to love. 

Still, I should not have played with your feelings the way I did. That is not what friends do. And the way I fled to Orgrimmar was beyond cruel to you. I should have stayed and said all this to you in person, but I was too much of a coward to do more than insult you. 

I understand my written apology might not be enough to convince you of my sincerity nor bring solace to you. That is why I think we should meet in person, if you so desire. 

I will await your response, should you decide to accept my offer. 

Sincerely,

Nathanos Blightcaller"

Nathanos put down his pen and smirked. Now that sounded like a good apology! It certainly didn’t lack the word “apology”, Nathanos thought. 

After an hour or so, someone knocked on his office door. When Nathanos gave him a permission, Vol’jin stepped inside. 

“Did ya contact Sylvanas like I suggested ya do?” 

“Yes, Warchief. I just finished writing her a letter with my deepest apologies and asked her if she would be willing to see me.” 

“Good,” Vol’jin gave the undead a rare, genuine smile. “She be useless as long as she be wallowing in her self-pity. I dunno what happened with de two of ya, an’ it be none of my business. Just fix her.” 

“I will, My Warchief. Trust me, I won’t screw up...” he sighed. “Again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This needs a third part. A conclusion to the story. Don't you guys think so?  
> Maybe I’ll do that for tomorrow...


	18. I Apologize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 17\. Candy and Treats  
> Sylvanas Windrunner and Nathanos Blightcaller have a nice little chat about their feelings.

* * *

“Queen Windrunner.” Nathanos gulped nervously. The banshee smiled. 

“Don’t look so nervous. I won’t bite.” 

Nathanos looked at Sylvanas, unconvinced yet hopeful that everything would go well. He really was sorry about all that he had said, and in addition to that, if everything went wrong, the Warchief would no doubt snap at Nathanos. Then he would truly have nowhere to go, except a grave. 

“Look, I brought a piece offering for you,” Sylvanas said and hold out a small bag. 

Nathanos realized he should have probably been the one to bring the banshee queen something, not the other way around. Still, turning down the gift would be rude. 

He reached out to the bag and pulled out a red, sticky blob. 

“Candy..? You know that my taste buds don’t work anymore, right?” 

Sylvanas shrugged. “Orcs like candy. I think. Anyways, you left me to live with them, so you better get used to their weird customs.” 

Nathanos didn’t bother even trying to explain to Sylvanas that most orc customs definitely didn’t include treats. The only candy-related thing that the orcs participated in was the Forsaken’s Hallow’s End, Nathanos thought. 

Instead, the man put the rubbery piece of candy in his mouth. 

“If I could taste, I’d say something horrible about this blobby goo.” 

To Nathanos’ surprise and relief, Sylvanas threw her head back and laughed. 

“I forgot how funny you can be when you aren’t being an asshole.” 

Nathanos let out a nervous chuckle. “I’m really sorry about last time, really,” he admitted, out loud for the first time. “I hope we can still be friends.” 

Sylvanas’ laughter echoed around the room again. Nathanos flinched – that wasn’t a happy “yay, let’s be friends” -laughter this time, but rather her cruel, sadistic laughter. 

“Take a seat, Nathanos,” Sylvanas smirked and offered the man a chair. He obeyed and sat down out of fear of what upsetting the banshee could cause. 

“When you played me like a fool and used my feelings to hurt me, I was devastated. But a friend of mine told me the best way to get over such an emotional trauma caused by the male stupidity.” The banshee walked around the chair while she spoke, never taking her eyes away from Nathanos. 

Nathanos forced himself to smile. “That’s good. It’s good that you’re over it. We can leave it in the past and – “ 

“Oh, you misunderstood me. I’m not over anything yet. But I will be after tonight.” 

“So... Your friend advised that having a hear-to-heart with me would help?” 

“Not quite,” she chuckled. 

“Ah,” Nathanos nodded, hoping that Sylvanas didn’t mean what he thought she did. 

“You’ll tell me what a great woman I lost and go find a better man, then?” Sylvanas glared at him. “Or a woman?” Her glare hardened. “Okay, person. Whatever.” 

“That's not what bothers me, your wording. No, Your idea just sounds like something that a soft, fluffy, heartbroken tauren would do. You forgot what kind of a person I really am.” 

“Sorry, I just thought...” Nathanos groaned. He had no idea what to say to get out of this mess. 

“I thought that you _were_ getting softer,” he admitted with honesty, “because of the way you acted around me last time.” 

“Feelings make me soft.” Sylvanas showed her psychopathic, cruel smile again. Then, slowly, she pulled out a knife from her boot. She twirled it around her fingers and watched as its tip glimmered in the faint light of the room. 

“That’s why I’ll kill them.”’ 

“Kill your feelings..?” Nathanos asked hesitantly and hoped he was wrong about this. 

“By killing the cause of them.” She pointed the blade at the man. “That’s you.” 

Nathanos tried to get up, to leave, to defend himself, something. But his limbs refused to obey. 

“What did you do to me?” he grunted through gritted teeth. 

“Oh no! There must have been something in that treat I gave you.” She smirked maliciously. “My bad.” 

“You poisoned me, you wench!” 

Sylvanas was once again playing with her dagger, focusing on it completely. “Poison is such a harsh word," she muttered. "I merely gave you a piece of candy that I might have accidentally dropped into a liquid that makes limbs go numb.” 

Nathanos growled when Sylvanas turned to look into Nathanos' eyes and stepped closer to him. 

“Stay back, you crazy bitch!” Perhaps not the best move, Nathanos thought when Sylvanas frowned. 

“You wanted me to get over the pain that you put me through. And now you _refuse_ to help me?” 

She came ever closer to Nathanos with grace in her steps. Her cloak waved around her body, and she smiled, this time with serenity. She was at peace with her decision. Nathanos knew he couldn’t convince her to stop. So he didn't waste his words. 

Sylvanas kneeled in front of her first, and only, true love. She held her blade gently under his chin, the tip touching his flesh without piercing it. 

“I will never stop loving you, Nat,” she murmured. “But seeing you all happy while knowing I can never have you is too much. Killing you is the only way.” 

She traced the knife's edge around the soft skin on Nathanos’ neck. Tears welled in her eyes just as Nathanos closed his. 

Then she pulled the blade through Nathanos’ throat, and the Blightcaller knew no more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted a happy ending. But, you know... I suck at writing those. 
> 
> After skimming over the list of remaining prompts, I thought about what pairings I want to write each day. Frankly, I have no ideas for days 22, 26 and 27. 
> 
> So I’m taking ship suggestions for those. You can see the prompts for those days at the first chapter. Let me know in the comments if you want me to write a specific pairing I haven’t yet done, or if you want to read more about ships I have already written. You can also suggest a specific prompt out of those three mentioned above for your ship.


	19. Who Goes There?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 18\. Deception and Disguises  
> Tyrathan Khort has to deal with both depression and an obnoxious new recruit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is continuation to my second fic (third chapter) . I recommend you read that before this to see what happened to Vol'jin.

* * *

The people of Azeroth were in distraught after the High King of the Alliance fell in the battle against Gul’dan’s demonic army, and the former Warchief of the Horde joined mad orc’s cause. 

Tyrathan Khort, a human hunter, retaliated the Legion’s assault by joining a secret organization called The Unknown Path to fight against the demonic armies. But, unbeknownst to the order, he had his own agenda. 

He was going to be the one to save Vol’jin. And, if his soul was beyond salvation, Tyrathan would put him to rest and avenge his fate. 

Tyrathan was just sitting on a rock outside the Order Hall’s main building and preparing for another mission when an undead he had never seen before wandered into his view. It was dawn, the laziest time in Trueshot Lodge. Most hunters had already returned from their nightly missions or hunting sessions, and those who would work today were still in their bedchambers, getting ready for yet another day of seemingly useless fighting. 

“Excuse me,” Tyrathan called out to the newcomer after watching him walk around for a moment. “You seem a little lost.” 

His head snapped towards Tyrathan, and the undead wandered to him. 

“My name is Stevie the Huntsman,” the mysterious man spoke. “I’m a new recruit here.” 

“I didn’t know we got a new hunter,” Tyrathan forced out a smile. “What are you looking for?” 

“Oh, um... A nice elf lady promised to show me the ropes in an hour, so I guess I’m just waiting for her.” 

Tyrathan nodded. The new recruit stayed by his side. Realizing he had no intentions to leave anytime soon, the human put down the arrows that he had been sharpening. He leaned back and gave the undead a quick look. He didn’t have an animal companion nor a weapon. 

“So, what kind of hunter are you?” 

“Uh... A good one?” 

Tyrathan shook his head. He wasn’t sure whether the undead was joking or just dumb, but he wasn’t in a mood to be amused so easily. Besides, the only stupid comments Tyrathan laughed at were Vol’jin’s. 

Thoughts about the moments that the two had spent together came flooding back to Tyrathan. He tried to push them back, to focus on anything but the devastating thought that those were the last memories he would ever make with the troll. 

_Great,_ Tyrathan thought, _I can’t even keep up a simple conversation with a dumb living corpse._

Tyrathan was feeling the all too familiar crushing weight of his dark thoughts. Breathing became hard, and his senses dulled. Except his vision. Everything was suddenly way too bright and he had to close his eyes. 

After someone – the undead, he remembered – poked his forearm, Tyrathan was sure he had missed something the new recruit had said. 

“Sorry, what?” he asked, trying to pull himself back to his senses with a distraction. 

“I was asking what kind of companion do you have? Or are you one of those weird, lonely hunters?” 

Tyrathan chocked back a sob. He wasn’t weak enough to cry, and above all, he wouldn’t do it in front of another hunter, especially one beneath him in rank as well as wits. 

“I – I used to have a.... a companion.” He breathed in deeply. “A friend. And now I’m one of the sad lonely hunters who can’t even keep a promise they made to that friend because they suck at everything,” he spat out, his voice filled with self-hatred. 

“Wow,” Stevie looked at Tyrathan with a hint of compassion in his unnatural green eyes. Since when did the Forsaken have such radiant, poison-colored eyes, Tyrathan wondered briefly before spiraling back to his jet-black thoughts. 

“I almost don’t want to kidnap and get you killed now.” 

Tyrathan’s mind snapped back to focus in a heartbeat. 

“You’re not with the Unseen Path,” he accused. 

“Yep. Took you long enough to figure out. I was sent here to get information about your little organization. But you’re clearly too depressed to even participate in small talk, so...” 

“Well, sorry that my depression is ruining your fucking plans!” 

“Never mind that, acquiring intel was not even my real goal. No, Gul’dan sent me here to collect you. See, his _pet_ has become increasingly disobedient. Gul’dan believes that keeping you around, alive on the condition that Vol’jin obeys him, will motivate the wretched troll enough that he will stop resisting the gift of the fel.” 

Hearing the former Warchief’s name spoken with such ire made Tyrathan’s blood boil. Acting with blind wrath, he grabbed his pocket knife, jumped off the rock and charged at the undead – and passed out from a spell before he even got close. 

The undead paused to make sure no one else had seen what had happened, and then he walked to the body that was now lying on the frozen ground. 

“Yesss!” he hissed. “Stevie the Warlock does the job! Maybe now Gul’dan will finally give me that promotion.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens. But how will this story of desperate gay love and fel end?   
> Note that although I'm no stranger to depression, I haven't attempted to write if before in any ways and I did this chapter in like half an hour. So, sorry if the way I wrote it sounds unrealistic. 
> 
> Fun fact: I have a female warlock called Stevye. Stevie here is obviously the dumber male version of her. I often get lazy at naming oc’s so I just use a name generator or my own characters’ names.


	20. I'm Not A Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 19\. Do you believe in monsters?  
> Tyrathan asks Vol'jin a seemingly harmless question that leads to a realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Tyrajin, yay! 
> 
> This is not related to yesterday’s story in any way. The chapter takes place in an AU where Draenor and Legion didn’t happen and Vol’jin is still alive and the Warchief, and he has an established relationship with Tyrathan.

* * *

“Do you believe in monsters?” 

Vol’jin let out a soft snarl as he turned his head to glare at his boyfriend. 

“Ya seriously be asking dat from me?” 

Tyrathan leaned against the Warchief and sighed. 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“Of course, obviously. But most would call me a monster anyways.” 

“Well, I obviously don’t.” 

Vol’jin smiled and wrapped an arm around the human. 

“What did ya mean, den?” 

“I... Do you think that someone could actually be rotten to the core? Entirely bad. You know, without any redeeming qualities or a chance to be better?” 

Tyrathan’s thoughts wandered to Garrosh Hellscream as he spoke. To his mind, the answer to the question he had asked was simple: yes. Without doubt, some were and would always be monsters. 

Vol’jin, on the other hand, took his time in considering his answer. While doing that, he ran his fingers through Tyrathan’s hair absent-mindedly, making the human smile. 

“Ya know,” he eventually spoke, “I don’t think dat.” 

“Really?” Voljin nodded. “What about, oh I don’t know, every single actual demon in the world?” 

“Some demons ‘ave been observed ta show sympathy, and dey be able ta get attached to people. I believe even dem can be saved with a little effort.” 

Tyrathan let out a hum. “So you believe that their situation causes them to act evil?” 

“Yes, as with all living beings. I refuse ta believe some are born monsters. But I should not expect ya ta understand. Ya be a human, after all.” 

Without hurry, Tyrathan got up from the couch they were sitting on and walked to the tower’s small, fortified window that was facing Durotar. He looked down on the two armies that were clashing at the Gates of Orgrimmar. 

“If I wasn’t willing to understand your point of view, I would be down there killing “monsters” right now.” 

“An instead, ya be here stuck with one.” Tyrathan glared at Vol’jin before turning his eyes back to the battle. Vol’jin got up as well and walked to stand by Tyrathan’s side. 

“Seriously, I be glad ya be here. At least I know ya be safe.” 

After a moment, Vol’jin placed his hand on Tyrathan’s shoulder. 

“You have to go down there, don’t you?” 

“I ‘av ta help my people. I promise ya I’ll be fine.” 

“Yeah, you better not die. I’d hate to kill my own people just to avenge you.” 

“I won’t die. An’ we talked about dis before: Ya don’t ‘av ta pick a side.” 

Having said that, Vol’jin patted Tyrathan’s shoulder gently and walked out of the room. 

Tyrathan was left to ponder the troll’s words alone. He had a point, but still, Tyrathan had lived his whole life thinking that some people are simply monsters, beyond redemption. 

But what most of the Alliance believed was simply stupid. Vol’jin wasn’t even close to a monster, and neither were most trolls he had met. The Warchief was one of the most compassionate beings he had met.

Slowly, Tyrathan came to a realization. Maybe the real monsters in this world were those who condemned and slayed others solely because of their race or faction. 

With that thought on his mind, Tyrathan went to pick up his bow from the other side of the room and headed to the tower’s roof. 

He had some monsters to kill. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two friendly reminders:  
> 1\. I am still taking character/pairing suggestions for days 22, 26 and 27  
> 2\. Comments and kudos are what I live for. Let me know if you like my way of writing this ship.


	21. Monatophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 20\. Greatest fear  
> Sylvanas reveals her worst fears to her girlfriend  
> TW: Mentions of su*c*de

* * *

Sylvanas laid on her cold, hard bed, her eyes closed. She let out a long sigh. 

“What is it now?” Jaina chuckled from the other side of the room. Sylvanas didn’t answer to her playful tone. 

“Hey,” Jaina frowned, her voice more serious this time. “Is everything okay?” Slowly, she walked towards the banshee and stood next to her. She reached out a hand and ran it through Sylvanas’ soft, cold hair. 

The undead smiled. 

“Everything’s okay when you are here.” 

Without rush, Sylvanas opened her eyes, reached towards Jaina and took her hand in her own. Jaina sat down at the edge of the bed, holding tightly to the offered hand. 

“I never feared dying,” Sylvanas said eventually. Jaina waited for her to go on. 

“When Arthas killed me, when his cursed blade pierced my skin, I felt no fear. Just anger and self-hatred. I couldn't believe I had fallen so stupidly and left my people at the mercy of that monster.” 

Jaina nodded. “An understandable reaction.” Usually, Sylvanas was cautious about mentioning Jaina’s ex, and so was the mage, but now Sylvanas seemed to care more about making her point than sparing anyone's feelings. 

“When Arthas was killed, I tried to commit suicide. I never told you this,” Sylvanas added when Jaina looked at her with a strange mix of pity and horror, “just so you wouldn’t look at me like that.” 

“Sorry.” 

“My point is, when I jumped off the Citadel onto a spike of saronite – “ 

“You did WHAT?” 

“Like I said, attempted suicide. Well, technically it worked, but as always, I didn't stay dead for long... Anyways, considering my body was already dead, merely stabbing my heart with an arrow wouldn’t work. I had to jump. Now please, no interruptions,” Sylvanas groaned. “I’m trying to explain an important thing here.” 

When Jaina merely stared at Sylvanas but did not speak, the banshee nodded, pleased with the mage. 

“As I was saying, when I jumped down, I felt a sense of peace. Tranquility that I hadn’t felt since I was murdered. Back then I was in a selfish state of mind. I couldn’t care less about my people, they had been mere arrows in my quiver that had served their purpose. I owed them nothing and they owed me nothing, so why would it matter to anyone if I died? But now...” 

She sighed and patted Jaina’s soft, warm palm with her thumb. Feeling Jaina’s pulse against her dead skin was something Sylvanas never got bored to. 

“Now I have learned to care about my people. About you. Even my sisters Vereesa and Alleria, though they have rejected me.” 

Sylvanas was quiet again for a long moment. 

“Do you know what I fear most?” she asked Jaina out of the blue. The mage shook her head. 

“I thought you feared nothing,” she teased. Sylvanas ignored her tone and spoke with a sense of solemnity. 

“I thought so as well. But now, there is one thing that frightens me.” Sylvanas sighed. “My sisters already refuse to have anything to do with me. Most of my people either fear or respect me, or both, but they don’t actually like me.” 

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Jaina interrupted. 

“It could be. I just... I fear that if you leave me, I will have no one in my life. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy solitude every once in a while. But I don’t want to die alone.”

"That's your greatest fear?" Sylvanas nodded, and to her surprise, the mage smiled. 

“You won’t die alone,” Jaina assured and squeezed her hand. “I’ll be here with you. Always.” 

Sylvanas was too afraid to ask what would happen after Jaina died. So she just pulled the mage on top of her and hold on to her as tightly as she could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sylvanas has feelings and you can't change my mind.


	22. The Mystery of the Missing Grog, by Flynn Fairwind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 21\. Unsolved Mysteries  
> Flynn Fairwind entertains his boyfriend with a completely real story that definitely happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s better than a shitty story? A pointlessly long shitty story told by an ex pirate within a shitty story!  
> Enjoy and don’t forget to give me some feedback!

Mathias Shaw, master of all assassins, was leaning against a wall and twirling his dagger around his fingers, for he was consumed by boredom. He was contemplating on what to do when a welcome distraction walked into the room.

“Hello, dear,” Flynn Fairwind basically yelled, his words slightly slurred. Mathias frowned. It was 9 am. 

“Have you been drinking?” Flynn grinned.

“You know it.” He sat down on the floor, and Mathias wasn’t sure if he chose to do that on purpose or just missed the fact that there was a chair right next to him.

Mathias sighed but nevertheless took a seat on the floor across from his boyfriend.

"You look bored," Flynn observed.

"So what if I am?" Mathias grinned subtly. 

“Alright, love, let me tell you a story then. A story of an unsolved mystery that still haunts me to this day...”

Mathias l eaned forward, his face lit up with anticipation . This was getting interesting.

”Go on.”

“Once upon a time, around ten years ago when I was hotter, younger, and all-in all, more awesome, I was walking around my house with a bottle of grog. That sweet, cold, tingling liquid was one of Kul Tiras’ best, a pride of the nation, really. A limited edition bottle: only one existed, and I had won it as a prize for... Well, that’s a story for another time.

Anyways, I was just about to open the bottle and pour myself a drink when a knock on my door interrupted my plans.

Now, it was dark, and when I glanced out of my window, I saw no one. 

I left the heavenly bottle on my table and walked towards the door, slowly, cautiously. I yanked it open and was faced with even more darkness.

I called out to the jet-black night. No one answered, no one except the howling wind. A shiver ran through my spine. Quickly, quietly, I closed the door and backed to my kitchen. 

After the first glance I spared to the room, I noticed something was horribly wrong.”

“Let me guess,” Mathias interrupted the  kultiran with an amused grin, “you lost your grog.”

“No. IT WAS STOLEN!” he practically bellowed before calming down.

“Uh, sorry about that. As I was saying, someone had lured me from the kitchen on purpose to steal that grog. And I knew who!

A pirate had participated in the competition to win the grog, a Freehold pirate.” Flynn stopped for a moment to grunt and spit on the floor. “Those  mangy animals,” he muttered.

“Anyways,” Flynn continued telling his story, “the pirate almost beat me. And it seemed she hadn’t had enough: The competition was back on!

I did the only thing I could think of. In the dead of the night, I sneaked inside Freehold, the nefarious pirate capital!"

Mathias couldn't help but to interrupt the story with a snort. Flynn rolled his eyes at him and continued.

“So there I was, a mere moment later, inside Freehold, surrounded by hostile pirates. The one I had been tracking pointed her shimmering cutlass at me and let out a “yarrrrrrrrrr”. My body shivered, not out of fear, but of excitement. Finally, I would face a worthy challenge and regain my grog!

But the pirate spoke instead of charging at me like the beast she was. 

She asked: “Where did  ya hide  yer grog, yarr?” And I was like: “What?”

It turned out that the pirates, those sketchy mongrels, didn’t steal it! They were on the search for it, just as I was, after they failed to find it from my house just moments earlier.

We made a pact, then and there. Whoever would find the missing, divine liquid would get the honor of pouring it down their throat. It was an unfair fight – one of me and a thousand pirates. Just what they preferred , and just what I wanted.”

Mathias interrupted the  unbelievably idiotic story. “ So they let you, their enemy, go? Just like that?”

“Killing me would have been the same as admitting that I was too big of a threat for them to deal with. Pirates are many things, my love, but not openly cowards. Behind closed doors, yes, they shivered in fear at the thought of me, but when gathered around in a group like that, like pigeons, no one dared to admit that I scared the living crap out of them.”

“Uh hu,” Mathias raised his eyebrows. Then he realized something. “Didn't you used to be a pirate?"

"That was after this story. You see, this happened when I was a... teenager, yes! Afterwards, me and my pirate enemies made up and I joined them. It's simple really."

"So they just accepted their most nefarious enemy to their ranks?"

"...yes. Clearly, you have no idea how pirates work."

Mathias sighed. "Sure. So, did you find the grog?” Flynn winked.

“I wouldn’t want to spoil the ending now, would I?

Where was I... RIght! The search for my grog continued through the darkest places of Kul Tiras. After having no luck with the nefarious witches of Drustvar nor the evil tidesages of the north – “

“I thought those were both newer problems. Didn’t this story take place far in the past..?” 

“Oh, we have always had problems with those," Flynn claimed and waved one arm in front of him. "I was just the first one to figure that out, while other kultirans were still floating in their safe bubble made of lies!

Anyways,  setback after setback, I eventually decided to return to my home city to gather my thoughts and to come up with a new strategy .

But when I got to Kul Tiras, everything w ent wrong. There was a Zandalari invasion going on!”

”Hold up,” the impolite  stormwindian interrupted yet again. ”There definitely wasn’t a  Zandalari invasion in Kul Tiras back then.” 

“Sweetie?”

“What?”

“Stop trying to sabotage my awesome story with your horrid knowledge of _MY_ and _MY people’s_ history.”

Mathias groaned, but he really didn’t want to upset his boyfriend who was quite obviously enjoying the ridiculous story of his.

“Very well. I apologize for my lack of knowledge in history.”

“It’s alright, babe. 

Now, there I was, returning to home only to find it swarming with big, scary trolls with tusks the size of my arms!

Immediately, three dozens of them attacked me, but I wrestled them all off. Some died by exsanguination, some by asphyxiation," Flynn spoke the long words really slowly, as if he was trying to remember how to pronounce so many different letters, "but all of them died – you guessed it – by my hands and blade alone.

One of the hundred trolls who had dared to oppose me was breathing, whilst the others were merely a bloody mess on my front yard.”

“I didn't know your house had a yard.”

“The Zandalari,” Flynn continued, ignoring his boyfriend completely this time, “let out a groan of agony when I stepped on his spleen.

“Why did you come here?” I asked, my voice rough and sexy. No, Mathias, don’t look at me like that. I wasn’t trying to seduce the troll, I merely sound hot all the times!

Anyhow... the troll answered hesitantly, his raspy voice even rougher yet less sexy than mine.

“We be... looking for... da grog!” he groaned as he bled out and died.”

Flynn took a dramatic pause, and he sipped his drink.

“What happened to the grog then, you wonder?" Mathias, in fact, was not wondering that, but he decided to indulge his beloved by nodding.

"It was never found!

That blessed bottle of legendary alcohol was so amazing that everyone on Azeroth wanted it, yet, no one knows who has it. There are rumors, of course. According to one, the Old Gods themselves claimed the grog for their own, dark purposes."

Flynn looked at Mathias expectantly, clearly waiting for applauds for his amazing storytelling. Mathias would offer him none of that.

"Alright," he spoke, "cool story I guess. But where's the point?" Flynn looked at him for a moment before he realized what Mathias meant. He arched one eyebrow, or at least he looked like he tried to do so. In reality, he mostly just squinted his left eye as his nostrils widened. 

"I didn't know real stories were supposed to have a life lesson or something. The point is, this was amusing, eh?"

Mathias gave him a dubious look.

"Okay, fine. The lesson is, don't avert your eyes from your alcohol or something awful will happen. And," he raised one hand and pointed a finger upwards, "NEVER trust pirates! I'm still not convinced those slimy sea scum didn't steal it in the first place."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a day late. I apologize that I couldn't write yesterday due to migraine. But no worries, I will still finish this challenge!
> 
> Btw, if it wasn't clear, my headcanon is that Mathias reallllly hates pirates.


	23. Two Sisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 22\. "I'd hug you right now, but I'm kind of covered in blood.  
> Greymane needs Alleria's assistance with a necessary task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place shortly after the WoW comic "Three Sisters". If you haven't read that yet, do so. It's amazing (and free to read at worldofwarcraft.com)!  
> Although this is understandable even if you haven't read that story.

Around a week ago, King Genn Greymane had approached Alleria Windrunner, who had returned to Azeroth mere months before, with an unusual request.

"As you probably know," the king had begun, "your younger sister is something worse than dead." Alleria had nodded.

"Undead. I met her once after my return," she had admitted. 

"How did that go?" Genn inquired, his voice kind and full of fake sympathy.

"Not well." Alleria had shrugged. "The void wants her dead. And I can't really find a way to call her my sister anymore. My Lady Moon is gone," she had growled, "and only a corpse stands where she should be."

Greymane had nodded. "I can't imagine your pain right now," he had said, "but there is one solution to that, and one only."

He had held a dramatic pause, and Alleria had guessed what he would suggest next.

"Sylvanas must die." 

She had guessed correctly.

Soon enough, Greymane had gathered a small group of highly trained soldiers for the special task. He had everything planned out: They would ambush Sylvanas when she would be alone, taking a walk around Tirisfal Glades. Should the soldiers have any trouble in taking down the banshee (and they would, Greymane had assured, Sylvanas was far from weak), Alleria would offer them backup with her arrows, and if Sylvanas tried to escape, Greymane would make sure she wouldn't succeed.

Breaching deep into the Horde territory was a huge risk and Alleria didn't know if it would be worth it. But she found herself agreeing with Greymane. Sylvanas was a danger to all, and frankly, she was merely a heartless corpse now. Putting her down was the only reasonable choose, no matter how much the thought of it pained Alleria.

The strange pair ended up on a small hill that was covered by bushes. According to an SI:7 spy, the banshee was heading their way. The dozen soldiers (seven Greymane's warriors, a few Stormwindians and an odd void elf and a dwarf) were hiding nearby, eagerly awaiting the upcoming fight.

It didn't took long for Sylvanas to make an appearance. Like Greymane had suspected, she was alone, walking. Just before she got to the hill where Alleria and Greymane were hiding, she stopped, and she perked up her ears.

Greymane didn't even need to give a silent command: all of the soldiers charged at once. 

Sylvanas was far from slow. She had drawn her bow and shot a worgen before he got close, but two others jumped at her. She pulled out an arrow, stabbed it into another Gilnean's heart and dodged the third attacked. Then, a void elf mage sent a spike of ice at her.

Sylvanas jumped to her left, right in front of a dwarven shaman who successfully smashed the banshee's kneecap with his hammer. She didn't let out a sound, she merely dispatched the dwarf and turned to face her other attackers.

Alleria felt like she was being torn apart. On the other hand, she had fought for the Alliance for so long, and that was where her family was. Her heart should ache for the lost soldiers. But seeing the corpse of her sister, limping and trying to hold back nine attackers, hurt her more than seeing her Alliance soldiers fall.

As Sylvanas tried to hold back two more worgens, a human rogue sneaked behind her. Alleria winced when she saw her blade pierce Sylvanas' abdomen. 

"No," Alleria muttered. Greymane turned his head to her.

"Alleria - "

"No, no NO!" she screeched, darkness seeping into her voice as well as her eyes, "THIS IS ALL WRONG!" 

The void washed over Alleria like a riptide, covering her skin completely with dark, purple glow. Genn stepped away from her, but the elf only spared one glance at the worgen before jumping onto the battlefield.

Her frail form resembled a fierce whirlwind as Alleria flew around the Alliance soldiers, her blades cutting through their flesh with precision. In less than a minute, the battle was over.

Alleria whirled around and her eyes met Sylvanas' over the sea of bodies. She was still standing. 

"Sylvanas!" she yelled and the banshee froze, her cautious gaze locked on to Alleria. The void elf ran at the undead.

"I'm so sorry," she sobbed as she stopped right in front of Sylvanas. The void around her began to recede as if it was melting into Alleria's skin, and she looked like her usual self in no time. Sylvanas stared at her in confusion.

"You saved me?" she questioned. "Even after what happened last time?"

"I don't care what the void or anyone else says. You're still my sister."

Slowly, Sylvanas' frown turned into a warm smile.

"Thank you. I'd hug you right now, but I'm kind of covered in blood."

Alleria let out a laugh. She couldn't care less about that, so she launched herself at Sylvanas.

When she hold on to her undead sister tightly, Alleria spared one glance towards where she had been just moments ago. Greymane was nowhere to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe this is just the Hordie in me talking, but Genn is a cowardly dog who should just die already.
> 
> On another note, I am still taking pairing and/or character suggestions (for days 26 and 27). Let me know what you want to read.


	24. Illidan’s Epic Screw-Up, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 23\. Costume party  
> Illidan Stormrage attends an Awesome Hallow's End costume party with his girlfriend. His choice of costume causes some... issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the title suggests, this is continuation to day 12 (chapter 13). You might want to check that out first.  
> This too takes place in modern au where these characters are teens/young adults/whatever.

* * *

“Guess what day today is!” Illidan yelled when he burst through Tyrande’s bedroom door. The aspiring priestess rubbed her eyes. She had just been asleep a minute ago. 

“How could I forget?” she retorted. “You have reminded me of your party every day for the last week. We arrived here, to Stormwind, yesterday just for this stupid thing." 

Illidan rolled his eyes. 

“Maybe I should be going with Maiev instead,” Illidan grunted. “At least she likes stuff that I like. Unlike some elves.” She gave Tyrande a harsh glare, and the young woman sighed. 

“Too late. Malfurion’s already going with her.” 

“What?? Since when are those two a thing?” 

It was Tyrande's turn to glare at Illidan. 

“They aren’t. I think the two are just sick of us being together all the time,” she smirked, trying to lighten the mood. It backfired, and Illidan frowned. 

“You think Maiev is upset with me?” 

Tyrande sighed again. “You know what? Ask her.” Finally, Illidan sensed her annoyment and gently grabbed Tyrande’s hand in his own. 

“Hey, we can stop talking about her if it bothers you. Now, let’s ready for tonight, shall we?” Tyrande nodded. 

“Sounds good to me.”

* * *

Tyrande walked into Stormwind Keep, her long, white dress flowing perfectly around her smooth legs. Despite Illidan’s silly suggestions, she had decided to dress up as something she aspired to become: High Priestess of Elune. 

Her eyes immediately landed on Illidan, who had insisted that they arrive separately. The elf had apparently wanted to surprise Tyrande with his costume, though Tyrande suspected he had really wanted to meet up with Maiev. 

Even though Tyrande was prepared for the worst, Illidan’s costume managed to disappoint and anger her. He was dressed up as a slutty demon. 

“Illidan, what the fuck?” she whisper-yelled once she marched up to her impetuous boyfriend. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t embarrass me with your costume.” 

“Technically, I just agreed to not be a slutty Horde soldier.” 

“I don’t see how this is any better...” Tyrande muttered under her breath. Illidan ignored her, as usual. 

“And second of all, I fail to see how my awesome costume could possibly embarrass you, my dear.” 

“People can see the outline of your dick!” she hissed. 

“Oh so just because it was inside of you once, I must hide the fact that I have a penis from everyone?” 

“That... You’re twisting my words!” Tyrande groaned. Only then she noticed that two elves were standing behind Illidan and staring at them in confusion. Malfurion and Maiev had arrived. 

Tyrande noticed immediately that Malfurion was frowning, and Illidan noticed that his girlfriend was no longer paying him any attention. He turned around. 

“Brother,” he drawled. Then, he smiled. “Maiev. Good to see you again!” 

“Illidan,” Malfurion spoke before the warden-in-training had a chance to say anything. “What on Azeroth are you doing?” 

“Tyrande basically yelled at me for nothing!” Illidan accused. “Am I not allowed to defend my honor?” 

“Not while dressed like a slut,” Tyrande muttered. Illidan shoved her gently. 

“I just want to enjoy this party, Tyrande. It’s like you’re purposefully ruining that for me.” Maiev gave Illidan a look that was almost sympathetic, but Malfurion was still pissed off. 

“And it’s like you’re trying to destroy your relationship on purpose,” he said. Then, Malfurion extended a hand. “Tyrande, if you don’t mind, I think we could have a pleasant evening together without my embarrassing brother.” Tyrande took the offered hand, and Illidan fumed. 

“Sounds pleasant.” Illidan could only watch as his brother walked away with his girlfriend. Maiev smirked at the sexy demon. 

“Forget about those two. _I_ really do like your costume.” 

“I know, you told me that like two hours ago.” Then he took a good look at the woman. “I wasn’t expecting you to dress up as a demon hunter though. 

“Demon hunters are no better than demons,” Maiev growled. Then she smiled. “I’m just a huntress who happens to love killing demons.” 

“That’s hot.” Maiev gave him a soft glare of confusion. 

“I mean, you’re hot?” 

“Aren’t you still dating that bitch Tyrande?” 

“Maybe. What if I wasn’t anymore?” Illidan retorted. Deep down, he knew he shouldn’t say that. He should turn around, find Tyrande and apologize to her. But some part of him, well, all parts of him really, didn’t want to do that. They wanted something else entirely. Someone else.

“If you weren’t with her anymore,” Maiev answered with caution, “I’d say it’s about time.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like dumb, pointless teen drama. But writing it is weirdly relaxing.


	25. Two Idiots and a Coven of Cackling Hags

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 24\. Witches and Warlocks  
> A warlock and a demon hunter get lost in Drustvar. What’s the worst that can happen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if anyone ships these two but I think they’re kinda cute together so...

* * *

“Why do you always drag me to the most awful places, Marius?” 

The demon hunter snorted with laughter. "I figured you’d like this place. You know, since you’re from Undercity. This forest is such a shithole, it must look homey to you.” 

“Ha ha. You know, sometimes I wonder why I even follow you around.” 

“Because you’re my pet warlock,” Marius cooed. Tehd, surprising the demon hunter, smiled as well. 

“You do have a point. But do you know why I’d follow you to the ends of Azeroth and beyond?” 

Under his mask, Marius smirked. “Because you love me?” 

“...yes. I was going to make a big confession. And you ruined it!” 

“Really?” 

“No, you idiot! I hope you die,” Tehd growled. 

The old married couples’ bickering was interrupted by a cackle. 

“Oh my,” a creaky yet feminine voice spoke from somewhere behind the trees. Neither Tehd nor Marius would never admit it, but the voice scared the shit out of them. 

“Who’s there?” 

“Yea, show yourself, you old hag!” 

The cackle echoed through the forest, and this time, more voices joined it. 

“Well,” Marius whispered, “that’s not creepy at all.” Then the demon hunter drew his glaive. Tehd prepared himself for a fight as well. 

That unholy voice spoke again. 

“It’s so kind that you two came all this way to us. We usually have to work a bit more to get any food around here.” 

“Are they planning on eating us?” Tehd whispered. “Maybe they’ll let me go once they see I’m all bones and rotting skin.” 

“Hush, we can definitely take a couple of crazy cannibal ladies out.” 

“Oh,” the cackler screeched, “I highly doubt that. But feel free to try. I like it when people fight for their lives.” 

“How did she hear us,” Marius whispered, even quieter than before. 

“Not all “old hags” have bad hearing, you know. Now... are you arrogant brats ready to die?” 

Marius lifted his glaive above his head. 

“Come at me, you bitches!” 

From the woods, a bolt of purple energy shot towards the demon hunter. 

He barely had time to dodge when another shot hit him right in the face, and he passed out. The last thing Marius saw before he fell was Tehd, whose crotch was smashed by black light. 

A moment later, the two men woke up in a dark room. Marius groaned in pain.

"You still alive, warlock?"

"Yep," came a groan after a while. "I just can't use my magic or even move."

Only then did Marius realize that his hands had been tied behind his back, and his legs were bound together. The demon hunter tried to set the ropes on fire without success.

"My magic is blocked too." Tehd let out an inhumane growl. 

"Of course it is. This is the end then, it seems."

Marius nodded, not realizing that the warlock couldn't see him.

"Looks like there are no heroes nearby to save us this time.

Just then. a familiar cackle echoed through the room. Then the hag spoke from somewhere close by.

"You're damn right about that one thing, idiots." Another laughter followed her words. 

"The two of you will suffer unbearable pain when I rip out all your organs slowly!"

Then, a cold finger poked Marius in the ribs.

"I'll kill you first. I've never tortured a demon elf before." She snorted. "Should be fun. Besides, you look far more tasty than that living corpse." Marius shivered in disgust when he felt a cold tongue on his neck. The unwelcome sensation was gone in a blink of an eye, but the slimy wetness of her saliva lingered.

The witch's footsteps could be heard for a moment when she walked away, and then, there was only silence.

“Well,” Tehd sighed. “At least there’s one ray of light in this hollow void.” 

Marius, who had now ceased his struggling against the magical ropes, turned his blind eyes towards Tehd. 

“I could be suffering here alone. At least I got you.” Marius almost smiled, but the warlock continued. 

“Now I get to watch you die.” 

“Fuck you, Tehd!" 


	26. Illidan’s Epic Screw-Up, part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 25\. "Hold my hand, I’m scared"  
> Back in the AU where all our favorite night elves are dumb teens, a year has passed. This time, Illidan has a more sinister plan for celebrating Hallow's End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As stated above, this takes place in a modern au (from chapters 12, 13, and 25) where demons are just a myth, Tyrande is a bit crazy (she got over her fears from the previous fics for the sake of this story), Illidan is just a stupid psychopathic teen, and Malfurion is scared of everything.  
> This might just be the longest Hallow’s End fic of mine (at least it took the longest to write by far) so prepare yourselves for an epic adventure!

* * *

The freezing wind blasted through a dimly lit room. Tyrande Whisperwind, a priestess in training, failed to hold back a shudder. 

“Are you cold, Tyrande?” Illidan asked. She shook her head and wrapped her arms around her seemingly fragile body. 

Illidan was about to hand Tyrande his blanked, but Malfurion shifted ever closer to the woman and gently wrapped his arm around her. Malfurion could have just as well stabbed his brother in the chest. 

“Don’t worry, babe, I’ll never let you get freeze.” 

Illidan rolled his eyes just as Tyrande giggled. Those delightful sounds should be reserved for Illidan’s ears alone. His brother did not deserve that goddess! 

Slowly but surely, as he watched the ”couple’s” flirting, a plan began brewing in Illidan’s mind. Yes, he knew now how he could break the pair apart. 

”Since it is Hallow’s end soon,” Illidan spoke, ”I think we should try this one thing I read about.” At best, Illidan could get rid of his brother. And even if this didn’t work, he could still scare Malfurion for good and show Tyrande that she could do so much better! 

Tyrande smiled, her eyes twinkling. ”Oh, you know I love that silly human festival. What do you have in mind?” 

Malfurion looked hesitant. Illidan let out a chuckle. He couldn’t see what Tyrande saw in that pussy. 

”I read about a spell that the mortals used a long time ago. It only works during the half-moon just before Hallow’s end, which is - ” 

”Tonight!” Tyrande cut in. ”That’s so exciting.” Then she paused. "But Maiev isn't here."

Illidan shook his head. "She can join us the next time. Besides, she's not a fan of demons anyways."

"I thought you did everything together." Unlike a year ago, when Tyrande had still been Illidan's, her voice was not filled with hatred but mere curiosity.

"It's not like we're that close... Anyways, want to try this or not?"

She turned to Malfurion. ”What do you say, beloved? Wanna try this?” 

Malfurion nodded, hesitantly but nevertheless. ”So, what exactly does this spell do?” 

”It will summon a demon to our command.” 

”Summoning demons is really dangerous, you should know better than to suggest it!” 

Tyrande laid a comforting hand on Malfurion's undeserving shoulder. ”My heart, you know they are just a myth. And even if are were real, do you really believe that a mere mortal's spell could summon one? If it worked like that, Azeroth would no doubt be crawling with demons."

”There’s still a small chance they exist and that this spell is powerful enough to – ” 

”I know, that’s what makes it so exciting! Please, Malfurion, let’s try!” 

The aspiring druid sighed. ”Very well then. How does this work, brother?” 

Illidan fought back a grin. Instead, he grabbed a pen and drew a complicated rune on the ground. 

”We need to place our hands on this and simply speak the words. After that, the demon should appear and we get to command it.” I get to command the demon, Illidan thought, and I’ll use it to get rid of you! 

Tyrande clapped her hands and eagerly set her hand down on the cold stone floor, her discomfort for the temperature forgotten. Illidan laid his hand beside hers, their fingers touching. After a moment of hesitation, Malfurion followed their example. 

”Now we simply repeat the words ”akris nor-menoth” until it works.” 

”It won’t work.” 

”Oh don’t be such a pessimist, my love.” 

”I am not! I’m being very optimistic here.” 

”Akris nor-menoth!” Illidan began chanting, interrupting the budding argument no matter how much he enjoyed it. 

”Akris nor-menoth,” Malfurion mumbled and averted his eyes from the rune. 

”Akris nor-menoth!” Tyrande was glowing as she yelled the words with joy. 

”Akris nor-menoth!” 

The lights went off as a particularly harsh breeze hit the three elves. Tyrande squealed while Malfurion let out a shaky gasp. 

”Are you all right, brother?” Illidan asked, not even hiding his grin this time. 

”No, I am not! Tyrande, please hold my hand, I’m scared.” 

Illdan let out a harsh laughter, which was cut short by a growl. 

”Who was that?’ Tyrande asked, still sounding more intrigued than scared. 

”The demon.” Malfurion chuckled, but he sounded far from amused. 

”Don’t be stupid, Illidan. Your spell couldn’t possibly have worked.” 

”Oh,” a low voice snarled, and the group turned in a rush to see who spoke. No one was there. 

Then, the voice came from behind Illidan. 

”Your spell worked perfectly, little elf. Thank you for freeing me.” 

“You… it really worked,” Illidan whispered. 

“I can’t believe it!” Tyrande smiled. 

“Neither can I,” Malfurion claimed, though his words rang unsure. “Illidan, this trickery of yours is not funny. I demand you cease this immediately!” 

The voice let out an animalistic laugh, harsh and cruel. Illidan shivered. 

“I assure you, I am very, very real. And you cannot command me.” 

“That’s right,” Illidan replied. “I drew the rune. I began the chant. I summoned you. Therefore,” Illidan failed to keep his voice from cracking in the slightest, “ **I** command you.” 

The demon let out an amused growl. Illidan could imagine that thing smiling somewhere in the dark, with bared fangs and black, shining eyes. 

“You wish me to do what you want,” the voice came, much closer than before, “elfling?” 

Illidan gulped and turned his head around, and again he failed to detect the monster. 

“Yes.” 

Instantly, the wind howled inside the room again, ant the demon snarled with what sounded like primal rage, or bloodlust. 

Someone screamed. Illidan wasn’t sure who, he was too busy trying not to have a panic attack. 

When the fog inside his mind and the horrid voices inside the room cleared, Illidan took a few shaky breaths and got up. 

“Malfurion, Tyrande? Are you... ok?” Alive, he thought. He couldn't see anything, but Illidan thought he detected some movement. Malfurion?

Yes, he had wanted Malfurion out of the way. But now that he thought about it... He didn’t want it to happen like this. 

After a few breathless moments, Illidan’s question was answered. 

“I’m okay. But I don’t know about Mal, I think... I know he was screaming. And that sound... You - . You two can stop this game now, it isn’t funny anymore.” 

A hollow growl resembling laughter in the slightest rang through the room. “This is not a game, girl. This is very, very real.” 

“What did you do to my brother?” 

This time, the demon certainly laughed. 

“Just what you wished for me to do.” 

“I didn’t order you to do _anything_!” Illidan screamed, more scared than before, not for himself but for his brother. 

“I am a demon, you fool! I can sense your thoughts. I can see your deepest desires.” 

“No, that can’t be possib –” 

“You wanted your brother out of the way. You’re welcome.” 

“No, he’s not... He can’t actually be...” Dead. Illidan couldn’t even say that one simple word out loud. 

He screamed in pure agony instead. 

“You are to do as I say! I demand you bring my brother back and leave, now!” 

Illidan could only hear Tyrande’s heavy breathing. Then, that damned laughter again. 

“You know, we demons don’t like taking orders. A weak mage-in-training such as yourself couldn’t possibly control me. I was going to kill you both, but because of your arrogance, I will do something much, much worse to you, _Illidan_.” 

Another horrid shriek echoed through the room. _Tyrande!_

“If you even _touched_ her – “ 

The demonic laughter cut off Illidan’s enraged shouting. 

“I,” the demon spoke again, his voice merely a whisper this time, “did more than just touch her.” 

“No...” 

“She is gone,” the monster said, a hint of amusement in his inhumane voice. “But you will live on."

Illidan let out a sob, even though he still wasn't fully comprehending what the demon was saying.

"Enjoy the next... How many years did you elves live again?" The demon cackled. "Right. You're immortal. Well then, enjoy your eternity of loneliness and suffering, and know that you are the reason your friends died this day."

A blast of wind swept through the room, and with it, the lights turned back on. When Illidan opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) he could see the mangled bodies of his beloved Tyrande and his brother. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn’t going to be this angsty. Or long... My bad. Let’s see if I can make the next story a bit happier.  
> . . .  
> Yeah, after checking the prompt number 26, my mind is just filled with angsty murder gore stuff. I suck at fluff. helpme


	27. Knock Knock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 26\. A Knock on the Door  
> Nathanos has died, but even death couldn't free him from his tormentor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is continuation to chapters 6, 17 and 18 (the sad love story of Sylvanas and Nathanos).
> 
> Sorry for the late update. I wrote this last night, but forgot to post click "post" lmao.
> 
> And I know I was supposed to write something happy for these two. But. I don't even know. My b.

* * *

Someone was pounding on the door of Nathanos’ little hell-hut. He purposely ignored it. Whoever, whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

The door was blown open, and  Nathanos ducked behind a corner. 

“Knock knock,” a familiar voice whispered. “Why,  Nathanos , didn’t I teach you any manners? You don’t just lock out an old friend who has traveled to another dimension just to meet you.”

Nathanos tensed. 

“You killed me,” he whispered. “You aren’t real. This is all a hallucination.” He let out a crude laugh. “Or a new way to torture me. Would be a nice change from the butthole spiders, really.”

Sylvanas’ face perked at him from behind the corner. Her grinning face was incredibly accurate,  Nathanos thought. Whoever made that clone, illusion, whatever, had really paid attention to the banshee’s little details. They had even gotten the psychotic, cruel expression right. 

"I assure you," she whispered, "I am real. I came all this way to visit you."

Nathanos snorted. "Yeah, right. Like you could just cross into whatever hell this is."

"The Maw," Sylvanas smiled. "And yes. The Jailer, this place's leader, kinda owed me a favor."

The man nodded. "Sure." Sylvanas, clearly frustrated, gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him through the rooms into a small kitchen. The walls were painted pink, and all furniture were different, mismatching pastel colors. 

Sylvanas threw Nathanos into a green chair which's legs were all slightly different in length. Then the banshee poured herself a glass of water. Or, tried to. Nathanos chuckled when only dead bees poured from the tap.

Sylvanas set down the glass and took a seat across from Nathanos.

“So, how’s life?” he asked hesitantly. “You’re happy now that I’m dead?” 

“Oh, no no no, my dear  Nathanos ,” she muttered. The pair stared at each other for a moment, each trying to intimidate the other. Then, Sylvanas got up and walked behind the man’s chair. 

“You see, I thought killing you would make me feel better. But it didn’t. No, I feel worse now that I know you’re up here being punished and I can’t even watch, let alone torment you myself!”

“Would that really make you happy?”  Nathanos questioned without looking at the banshee. “You used to love me, after all.”

Sylvanas grinned, her cruel expression lacking all hints of affection she had once felt for the  Blightcaller . She snarled instead of answering, pulled out a dagger in a flash and plunged it into  Nathanos ’ guts. The man flinched, but he didn’t make a sound.

“Well that’s disappointing,” Sylvanas groaned. She walked back to her chair and slumped down. 

“What can I say?”  Nathanos shrugged, pulled out the blade and whisked it away. “Spend a while in the afterlife and you’ll get used to the pain.”

“A challenge,” Sylvanas’ hollow voice whispered. She crossed her hands on top of the table and leaned forward. A shiver ran through Nathanos’ spine. The banshee looked down and stared into his eyes.

“I like the sound of that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll just stop writing and let you imagine all kinds of cruel torture thingies. You’re welcome :)


	28. Two Sisters and a Banshee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 27\. Breaking and entering/trespassing  
> Nathanos finds out something unexpected when he follows his Queen into the Allaince territory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like the name of this chapter would suggest, this is a sequel to “Two Sisters” (day 22, chapter 23). I suggest you read that first (or just imagine how Alleria and Sylvanas bonded with murder and Genn was sad).

Nathanos Blightcaller knew he shouldn’t be trespassing into the Alliance territory, especially with the war going on. But then again, his duty as the Warchief’s champion was to protect her. Nathanos might have been a lazy scumbag, but he took his work seriously, and that's why he followed Sylvanas deep into Duskwoods. 

Alright, maybe spying on his Queen wasn’t what he was supposed to do, but what else could he do when she sneaked off to dangerous adventures without telling anyone why? 

He saw Sylvanas entering a small, shabby cottage. Nathanos was about to follow, but then he saw another cloaked figure approaching the wooden door. The man ducked out of sight, but the elf (Nathanos could see long, pointy ears poking out from under her hood) wasn’t paying much attention to her surroundings. She merely walked in and closed the door carefully. 

Nathanos sneaked to the house, found a window and stealthily peered in. 

* * *

Vereesa let out a growl filled with hate. 

“What is _she_ doing here?” she hissed, looking her sister in the eyes while pointing at Sylvanas. 

“She and I came to an agreement,” Alleria answered easily. Sylvanas, however, was looking at the two with discomfort. 

Vereesa’s head snapped to the banshee. 

“What kind of an agreement? You’re not trying to convince her to join the Forsaken like you did with me, are you?” 

“Oh please,” Sylvanas drawled. “You were more than happy about that idea back then.” 

“I was in a weak place and you manipulated me!” 

“I just wanted my sister back! You were the one who gave me false hope and then stabbed me in the face!” Sylvanas took a deep breath that she didn’t need to calm herself down. “I’m sorry,” she spoke a moment later, “for yelling.” 

Vereesa, still eyeing her suspiciously, relaxed in the slightest. “I apologize as well if my actions back then harmed you. That was never my intention.” 

Alleria nodded, a pleased smile on her face. "Our agreement was that despite our factions, we got each others' backs. We're still sisters," she said and took Sylvanas' hand in her own. The banshee smiled shyly.

Vereesa sighed. "Alright. I'm in."

"You are?" Sylvanas asked, narrowing her eyes. Instead of answering, Vereesa gripped her free hand gently.

Alleria beamed, and she enveloped her two sisters in a hug.

* * *

“I knew you weren’t heartless,”  Nathanos smirked at his queen when she stepped outside.

“And I knew you were an idiot. But following me and making false claims about my “humanity”?” She grinned. “It’s like you want to die.”

Nathanos shook his head. “Say whatever you want,” he let out a laugh and gently shoved Sylvanas. “You still love your sisters.”

“I do not!” She claimed, her voice outraged and a look of shock on her face. “I merely... keep them around. You know, they could be useful.”

“Useful for what, exactly? It’s not like they’ll switch to our side just because you asked.”

“I know that... I just figured it would be beneficial to be on good terms with my sisters. Just in case.”

“Just in case..?” Nathanos smirked again.

“Yeah. Just in case.”

“Is that why you hugged them?” he teased. Sylvanas bared her fangs and hissed.

“Mock me one more time and I swear, I will literally boil you until all that remains of your skin has melted off. Then I’ll remove your bones one by one, feed them to ghouls, put your brain on a spike and leave it in my living room for the rest of eternity!”

Nathanos merely chuckled.

“No you won’t,” he whispered. “Because you’re soft.”

Sylvanas groaned, and then realized she had no choice but to accept what Nathanos had said. 

She had become soft.

Urhg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm like two days late. But life hates me right now.  
> No worries though, I will finish this thingy before this month is over!


	29. Pumpkin Carving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 29\. Pumpkin carving  
> Anduin teaches his boyfriend how to make a Jack o' Lantern.

Varok stared at the pumpkin with a scowl while holding up his knife.

“I have no idea how to do this. I just want to stab this stupid fruit to death.”

Anduin let out a chuckle. “I don’t think pumpkin is a fruit.”

“Then what the fuck is it?” Anduin shrugged.

“A vegetable?” he guessed. “I mean, it grows on the ground, not in a tree.” Varok growled.

“That’s not the point anyways.” He smashed his knife on the table blade first.

“I know. Look...” Anduin pulled the knife out of the wood with some effort and frowned at the hole it left. “When I’m out of inspiration, I think of something I like.”

Varok gave him a blank stare.

“You know, like really like. Something I love. And I use that.”

“So..?” 

“Carve something you like into it.” Anduin handed the knife back to Varok and hoped he wouldn't stab anything else with it.

“I thought we were supposed to carve faces.” 

Anduin sighed. “Yes. Carve a face that represents something that you like.”

Varok’s eyes lit up.  _ Finally _ , Anduin thought.

Anduin continued working on his own pumpkin. He was going to carve a truly horrifying lantern, one that resembled  Varok’s face. And, while trying to hide his shy smile from the orc, Anduin hoped that  Varok would carve a pumpkin that looked the priest. That way, their lanterns would look great together on a windowsill. 

“So, what are you carving?” Anduin prodded, but Sarok sneakily moved his body between his pumpkin and the human.

“It’s a surprise for you.”

Anduin beamed and continued working on his scary orc pumpkin lantern. After a moment, he was done, and Anduin put down his knife.

“You’re done?” he asked Varok, who shook his head.

“Just give me a minute to finish this.”

While  Varok worked, Anduin stole some glances at him.  It surprised the human how deeply Varok was focusing on his definitely-not-a-fruit. Anduin had expected him to outright refuse to partake in such a silly tradition. Nevertheless, the human couldn't have been happier. Celebrating a holiday with a loved one was all he wanted.

"I'm ready," Varok announced and interrupted Anduin's thinking. 

"Great!" the king smiled. "Let me show mine to you first."

Anduin turned around his pumpkin slowly. Varok stared at the carving for a long time.

"It looks like an orc."

"It looks like you!" Anduin smiled, but his boyfriend frowned.

"You carved it to look like my face?" he asked. "Because my face is scary?"

"No..."  


"Then why - "

"Because I thought it would be cute. You know, because I love you," Anduin lied smoothly. Well, he didn't technically lie about loving Varok, but he efinitely lied about the scary-part.

"Oh," the orc grunted.

"...do I even want to know what you carved?"

Instead of answering, Varok turned his pumpkin around so that Anduin could see what he had made.

"What on Azeroth is that!?" he yelled. Varok merely shrugged.

"You told me to think of something I love. I love terrifying humans. That's why the pumpkin looks scary."

"..."

"I feel like I misunderstood what you meant."

"And I feel like I'm going to have nightmares about your unholy pumpkin for the rest of this year."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Technically, pumpkin IS a fruit!


	30. Lonely Without You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 28\. “What are you gonna do, huh? Curse me again? I’ve spent the last three centuries with you, there’s nothing left for you to threaten me with.”  
> Maiev would never admit it, but she enjoys the occasional company of a certain demon hunter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, this one is only three days late! 
> 
> Enjoy some Maiev & Illidan stuff taking place in a weird au. Basically, Maiev couldn’t kill Illidan for personal reasons and she just stayed in Outlands for the rest of... well, eternity, since she’s immortal. And the two sort of developed a friendship I guess.

Maiev walked around the withered forest of Terokkar. She could feel him close to her. He was always close, watching her, following her. 

And honestly, she enjoyed not being alone all the time. Not that she would ever admit it to Illidan. 

“What do you want now?” she decided to yell, hoping the demon hunter would hear her. 

“Is it so hard to believe I was just taking a walk?” Illidan laughed. Maiev shook her head. 

“You follow me around all the time.” 

“You leave the Temple all the time.” 

Maiev nodded. “You never said I couldn’t do that.” 

Illidan finally came out from behind a tree and stepped in front of Maiev. 

“I know. You could leave the Outlands right now if you wanted to.” 

Maiev punched Illidan lightly on his shoulder. The demon hunter was not amused. 

“Do that again and – “ 

The ex warden punched him again, more roughly this time. 

“Maiev!” 

“What are you gonna do, huh? Curse me again? I’ve spent the last three centuries with you, there’s nothing left for you to threaten me with.” She smiled innocently. “You’re harmless.” 

“You’re right,” he sighed. “I can’t threaten you with much.” 

Maiev's smile morphed into a smirk. 

“But there is something I can do. I could just ask my servants to banish you back to Azeroth. 

Her smirk died. 

“Don’t you dare to do that! You know there’s no place in there for me anymore.” 

“I know. See, I’m not that harmless, am I?” 

Maiev let out a morbid growl. In moments like these, she really regretted not killing Illidan when she had the chance. 

Or that's what she told herself anyways. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this and the rest of the stories are late, but I said I would finish this challenge before the month is over. Technically, I still have time. So expect several updates very soon!


	31. Death (Shan't) Do Us Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 30\. Death and reincarnation  
> After Azeroth's greatest heroes failed to stop the Lich King's reign, Jaina Proudmoore paid his ex boyfriend a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place somewhere during WotLK
> 
> TW: As you can probably guess, death. (It's not that graphic though. Just sad.)

Jaina’s mind had barely time to register what was going on when Frostmourne pierced her heart. She let out a gasp as tears welled in her eyes. 

Arthas pulled back the blade, and Jaina’s lifeless body fell to the frozen floor. 

When she next opened her eyes, she was inside a jet black chamber. Jaina tried to see around her with no success. She felt disoriented, like the whole room was spinning. Her memory was all foggy too. 

She got up slowly. Her joints felt frozen, but there was no pain. 

She couldn’t feel anything. 

A wave of dread washed over Jaina when the fog in her mind cleared. She could remember it now. She remembered what he had done.

She was no longer alive. 

“Arthas!” Jaina shouted, her dead, hollow voice echoing through the empty room. Silence was the only thing that answered to her. 

Jaina fell to the floor and tried to cry, but there were no tears left in her body. 

She didn’t know how long she sit in the darkness, but eventually, a crack of light appeared in the corner of her eye. A door opened, and someone stepped inside the room. It didn’t take long for Jaina to figure out who it was. She heard all-too familiar steps coming closer and closer to her. 

“Why did you do this to me?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. Arthas walked ever closer to her until he was towering over the undead mage. 

Gently, he touched her shoulder. 

“This is the only way we can be together for an eternity. Is this not what you wanted?” 

Her lungs had no need for air. Nevertheless, she breathed in shakily, deeply, merely out of habit. The fog had gone away completely, her mind was crystal clear. Nothing Arthas could say would change her mind anymore.

“All I want right now is to die.” 


	32. A Satisfying End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 31\. "If you thought you were safe, you thought wrong."  
> The trilogy of Gul’dan and Vol’jin gets the conclusion it deserves!  
>  **TW: Graphic descriptions of violence and death**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is continuation to chapters 3 and 19 (prompts 2 and 18). Please make sure you’ve read those first! 
> 
> This chapter is horrible (in a good way I hope), but writing this was so satisfying. Finishing this challenge was super stressful to me, so what better way to celebrate than... well, read to find out! 
> 
> Tbh most of this chapter is gore. Sensitive readers, stay back. I put all my fancy vocabulary and knowledge of humanoid bodies into this piece of art. Also, this is the first time I've written this graphic violence. Let me know if it's good (or sucks)!

“If ya thought ya were safe, ya thought wrong."

"Your soul was supposed to be mine to command!"

"My soul belongs to ta man ya threatened ta kill!"

Vol’jin gripped his glaive, which glimmered in the ominous, green light, and charged at his slaver in rage. Gul’dan ducked to the left but Vol’jin managed to extend the weapon enough to sever a tendon in the orc’s shoulder. The warlock let out a morbid groan, one which pleased Vol’jin immensely. 

The former Warchief had no time to celebrate just yet, for Gul’dan turned around and lifted his fully intact arm high, using it to send a ball of fel energy forwards. Despite his best attempts to dodge, the spell hit Vol’jin, and the smell of burnt flesh flooded his nostrils. The hit, however, was not nearly enough to halt or even hinder the troll. With a fierce cry, Vol’jin charged again. 

This time, Gul’dan was not expecting another hit. With one precise slice, the orc’s skin ripped off to reveal muscle tissue, as green and fel-tainted as the outer parts of his body. A rare shriek escaped the orc just like the black blood that seeped through his severed veins. 

“You will regret this insult deeply,” Gul’dan growled. “You sold yourself to me, remember? Just stop to think what will happen if you succeed in killing me!" 

The troll circled around the warlock, his glaive more than ready to drink more of his demon blood. 

“Ya took my beloved captive an' tortured him! No matter what happens ta me, I refuse ta just watch ya hurt him any more.” 

Gul’dan’s cruel laughter turned into a coughing fit, and blood spattered from his throat to the ground. 

“What if,” he rasped, “you are too late?” 

“Den I will find a way ta bring ya back ta life, just so I can watch ya die a thousand times more.” 

That was all Vol’jin wanted to say. He had no use for the weakened warlock anymore. There was no amounts of torture that could get him to reveal the location of Tyrathan. Vol’jin would just have to dig that information out of someone else. 

Watching Gul’dan lay on the floor, barely alive, was extremely satisfying. Still, Vol’jin ended the orc’s suffering by piercing his withered, fel-eaten heart with his blade. 

Vol’jin was half-expecting something. A trick, or a final speech, anything. But Gul’dan died without another word. He didn’t even whimper in pain or scream. 

His silent death made Vol’jin feel empty, in some strange way. 

He didn’t have time to dwell on that thought. Vol’jin had been separated from his beloved for too long already. 

Vol’jin rushed to the room where Gul’dan’s guards claimed to keep the human prisoner, and he burst in to see a corpse in state of decay. A pale human body. 

The troll walked slowly to that cold pile of flesh and touched its visibly cracked head with a single shaking finger. A surge of fear pierced his heart, but Vol’jin had to know the truth. He turned the body around to reveal the rotting face of a human he had never seen before. 

In his frustration, Vol’jin kicked the corpse that was covered in dried blood, breaking its skull, and he growled. 

Then he heard pounding from the next room. The troll rushed back to the hallway. 

“Vol’jin!” he heard a muffled yet familiar yell from another locked room. “Is that really you?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally wrote an ending where Vol’jin finds Tyrathan’s corpse. But I have written too much angst this October, so I fixed it to show you that I can make happy endings. You’re welcome :) 
> 
> Happy Halloween to everyone! I hope you enjoyed my gift to you <3


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